Jackie Kelly: Leader of the Manhattan Newsies
by I Am Number 7
Summary: What if Newsies was a musical about Jackie Kelly, the only girl newsie and how she lead her troops into a battle with Joseph Pulitzer in 1899? This is how it would have gone... Rated T for language. Romance between Jackie and David, because Sarah doesn't exist in this world.
1. Carrying the Banner

**A/N: Hiya, ! I'm back, but this time, with another fandom to write about. NEWSIES [which I, sadly, do not own]. My favorite musical of all time [for sentimental reasons…otherwise, Les Misérables would take first]. I got commissioned a while ago to re-write the script of the movie for a community church theatre, and I immediately jumped at the offer. I was asked to change the lead, Jack Kelly, to a female and also make a few other female newsies as well. She also asked for a mix of the Broadway music with the movie music. This story just sort of happened while I was changing the script…I could see exactly what I wanted, and I **_**had**_** to write it down. So, I did. Though I added a few girls for the script, I just couldn't imagine any other real girl newsies and I didn't have the heart to gender-bend Mush, Blink or Racetrack, so for this story, we'll all just assume Jackie is the only girl newsie. Also: she is NOTHING like Jack. Her entire aura is different. Characters have a life of their own, and Jackie Kelly did not want to be like Jack. So, here it is. The story of Jackie Kelly: Leader of the Manhattan Newsies.**

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_In 1899, the streets of New York City echoed with the voices of newsies, peddling the newspapers of Joseph Pulitzer, William Randolph Hearst and other giants of the newspaper world. On every street corner you'd see 'em carrying the banner, bringing you the news for a penny a pape. Poor orphans and run-aways, the Newsies were a ragged army, without a leader, until one day, all that changed._

All was quiet when Kloppman's soft footsteps were heard in an old room full of what seemed to be sleeping children. He stopped in the middle of the room and looked around. His face was worn and old, with many wrinkles from years of life. His hair was white and thinning under his black bowler cap. Kloppman was the owner of the entire building: The Manhattan Newsboys Lodging House. This was where many of the Manhattan newsies slept at night after their long days selling papers for Joseph Pulitzer's creation, The World. Kloppman heaved a sigh as his eyes swept the bunk room once more, and adjusted his hat.

"Boots! Skittery! Skittery! Skittery!" the old man shouted. Boots, a young black boy shot straight up, eyes wide, before he closed them slowly and crashed back on his pillow. Kloppman started slapping at Skittery's cheek.

"Wha…I didn't do it," the boy proclaimed. Kloppman shook his head.

"What do you mean you didn't do it? Will you get up? When you get up, it's time to get up!" He walked over to another boy. "Snitch! Get up! Get up! Everybody's sleeping. They sleep their lives away these kids! The presses are rolling! Sell the papers, sell the papers!" As he yelled, more of the boys woke up, and groaned as they rolled out of bed and shuffled to the washroom sleepily.

"Cowboy, Cowboy. You dreamin' about selling papers?" The old man began poking the shoulder of a much smaller figure on a top bunk, whose head was stuck underneath a pillow. The figure rolled over and the old man chuckled as he snatched the pillow away. He was greeted by a mass of curly brown hair and the drowsy confusion of a teenage girl, Cowboy, also known as Jackie Kelly. Jackie blinked repeatedly.

"Mmmmmm? Kloppman? Whassa matta witchoo+?" she slurred, glaring at Kloppman.

"What's the matter with me?" Kloppman mimicked.

"Whassa matta witchoo? Wanna…go…back…to…" the girl grabbed her pillow back and burrowed her face into it. Kloppman laughed again. He pulled the pillow out from under her head and then shoved her shoulder. Jackie fell off the top bunk in surprise, letting out a shrill squeak.

"Come on!" Kloppman yelled at her. He jogged around the bunk and playfully kicked at her. She glared up at him, but Kloppman knew she wasn't really mad at him. She could never be mad at the man who had been there for her and had been her unofficial caretaker for three years, and official friend for nearly ten.

"Get away from me, you're mad!" she yelled up at him, shoving his foot away. He just laughed a bit harder and continued to yell at the rest of the newsies.

"Jackie! Get up, kid! Come on. Alright! Carry the banner! Sell the papers!" Kloppman walked away, and exited the room. As Jackie rubbed the remaining sleep out of her eyes, another teenage boy snickered at her. She glared at him, and moved at him suddenly in a menacing way. He leaned back with his hands in the air, still snickering.

"Shaddup, Racetrack. I swears, I'll soak ya…" she muttered to him, padding away. Racetrack smiled at her and pushed his black suspenders up over his shoulders. His hand reached for a metal can next to his bedside. He stopped, surprised when he found it empty. He quickly searched the area around him, but stopped again once his eyes rested on the younger boy lying casually in the bunk across from him with a cigar hanging out of his mouth.

"Damn it, Snipeshooter…" Racetrack murmured. He leaned forward right next to Snipeshooter's face.

"_Das my ciga',"_ Race sang. Snipeshooter looked at him uninterestedly.

"_You'll steal anudda,"_Snipeshooter sang back. Racetrack grabbed his cigar back forcefully, and Snipeshooter shoved him in return. When the two boys looked as though they were about to brawl, Kid Blink, a tall teenage boy with a brown eye patch over his left eye rushed over and pushed them in opposite directions. He glared at them with his good eye.

"_Hey, bummas, we got work ta do!"_ Kid Blink let them go, and Specs, appropriately adorned with his glasses, walked up to them. He made kissy faces at Kid Blink.

"_Since when did you become me mudda!"_ As Specs sang in his face, Kid's face contorted in disgust at Specs' morning breath. Crutchie hobbled over to the four of them, shaking his head.

"_Aww, stop your bawling!"_ He waved his hand at them, dismissing them, before limping away on his crutch. Before he could do so, though, many other newsies, including a shirtless but suspender-wearing Mush, crowded up behind him with annoyed looks on their faces.

"_Hey, who asked you?"_ they all shouted at Crutchie, who just shrugged good-naturedly. Mush walked away from the group with a smile on his face and a spring in his step. He bounced up to Jackie, who was finishing up the last buttons on her shirt, and leaned one arm against the wall next to her head.

"So, how'd you sleep, Jackie?"

For most people, Mush's smile was contagious; it was cute and adorable, and it was nearly impossible to not join in on the grin-fest. For Jackie, though, his smile was just another reason to be annoyed. She was not the happy-go-lucky person Mush was. She glared up at him, knocking his arm away from her face.

"On me back, Mush," she retorted. Instead of glaring back, Mush laughed heartily. He never was one to be mad.

"Ha ha! Hear that fellas? Hear what Jack said? I asked Jack how she slept and she said 'On me back, Mush'!" He laughed some more, pretending to punch Jackie as she groaned in annoyance and blocked his fake punches. He then put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her into the huge washroom. Nearly all of the newsies were in there, washing their faces, shaving, or scrubbing themselves in wash bins.

Racetrack and Mush started to shave, while Jackie tied her hair up and shoved her cap on her head.

"Boy, does it feel like a great day ta be a newsie!" Racetrack exclaimed. Many of the boys laughed and murmured their agreements. Jackie rolled her eyes before picking up an old, worn out, red bandanna. She tied it around her neck almost lovingly, but none of the newsies took notice. Mush grinned widely.

"_From Bottle Alley ta da harbor, dere's easy pickin's, guaranteed,"_ Mush sang. Other newsies nodded and grunted in agreement

"_Try any banker, bum, or barber, day almost all knows how ta read,"_ Race sang from his position on a soap box in front of a mirror.

"An' even if day don', dey'll still buy from ya, 'cause day don' wanna admit tha damn ugly truth!" he continued, still shaving his nonexistent facial hair. Jackie just shook her head and smirked, but decided to join in anyway.

"_It's a crooked game we're playin', one we'll neva lose,"_ her rich alto voice sang out as she fixed her hair up in her cap. She then turned to Mush and continued with a sly smirk, _"long as sucka's don' mind payin' just to get bad news."_ Mush laughed heartily as he slapped her outstretched hand. Jackie kept the smirk plastered on her face. As the rest of the newsies made final touches to their morning routines and grabbed the last of their things, they were all clambering down the stairs and rushing door and heading down the streets of Manhattan, singing all the while.

"_Ain' it a fine life, carryin' da bannah tru it awl,"_ the newsies sang in unison. _"A might fine life, carryin' da bannah tough and tall. Every mornin', we goes where we wishes, we'se as free as fishes, sure beats washin' dishes. What a fine life, carryin' da bannah home-free awl!"_

The newsies all had smiles on their faces as they jumped and flipped about through the nearly empty streets of Manhattan, save one. Jackie looked almost bored, but still sang along with her boys. At some point, the newsies slowed to a walk down a street littered with empty carts, crates, and carriages. As they walked, some of the newsies took to climbing the structures.

"Hey, Crutchie! Whatcha leg say? Gonna rain?" Skittery called from atop a stack of wooden crates. Crutchie twisted his mouth, scrunched up his nose and furrowed his brow in concentration.

"Ehhh, no rain…ho ho! Partly cloudy, cleah by evenin'!" he called back. Racetrack lets out a bark of laughter and clapped Crutchie on the back with a sarcastic look.

"Ha! And the limp sells fifty papes a week, all by itself." Crutchie smiles at him, and shoves him away lightly.

"Ah, I don' need tha limp ta sell papes. I got personality." He hobbled over with his crutch near Jackie who, even with an aura akin to one Spot Conlon, had a soft spot for the crippled boy.

"_It takes a smile that spreads like buttah. Tha kind that toins a lady's head,"_ he sang, dragging his bum leg behind him as he did his best to keep up with the other newsies. Mush, Skittery, and Race popped up one by one between and on either side of Jackie and Crutchie.

"_It takes an orphan with a stuttah,"_ Mush started.

"_Who's also blind!"_ Race followed.

"_And mute."_ Skittery joyfully stated, throwing his arm around Jackie's shoulder. She glared up at him.

"Yeah, and dead," Jackie spit out sarcastically, shoving Skittery away. The newsies laughed and danced through the cobblestone streets, singing of their way of life in glorious New York City.

"_Summah stinks, an' winter's freezin' when you works outdoors. Start out sweatin', end up sneezin', in between it pours!"_ The newsies organized together and, apropos of nothing, broke out into choreography and song fit for a Broadway musical, not that any of the newsies knew what that reference even meant.

"_Still, it's a fine life, carryin' da bannah tru it awl-"_ half of the newsies began.

"_Still it's a fine life, carryin' da bannah tru it awl-"_ the other half sang in counterpart.

"_A bunch of big shots, blowin' every nickel as it comes-"_

"_A bunch of big shots, blowin' every nickel as it comes,"_ the counterpart ended.

"_What's the hold up? Waitin' makes me antsy, I likes livin' chancy,"_ Crutchie sang out, making up some sort of dance on his own as the rest of the newsies looked on. Jackie stood next to a pile of crates, leaning against it with her arms crossed. An amused smirk slid to her face as she shook her head at Crutchie's antics. She and the rest of the newsies joined Crutchie in the middle of the otherwise abandoned street.

"_Harlem to Delancey, what a fine life-"_ their voices cut out for just a second, but long enough for the entirety of the group to face the same way and do a synchronized hip-thrust punctuating their next line. It could not be helped.

"_Carryin' da bannah tru da…"_ The newsies' voices faded as a carriage pulled up. Inside were nuns. The newsies walked, or in Crutchie's case, limped over to the carriage. The nuns sang as they passed stale bread and curdled coffee into the newsies' awaiting hands like they did every morning.

"_Blessed children, though you wonder lost and depraved, Jesus loves you, you shall be saved!"_ The nuns were kind, but what they didn't realize is that most of the newsies, if they even started out as a Christian, had a bit of a falling out with the Man upstairs sometime in their lives. Those few who hadn't, it was only a matter of time before it happened to them.

Instead of grabbing 'breakfast' with all the other newsies, Jackie stayed where she was in the middle of the street. She turned away from the sight of her broken and hungry newsies, grabbing her cap off her head, running a dirty hand through her curly mess of hair. Some of the newsies sang behind her, and she could recognize each and every voice, even while she sang herself.

"_Been here-"_

"_Just give me half a cup."_ Racetrack.

"_So long-_

"_Somethin' to wake me up."_ Kid Blink.

"_Since I left home-"_

"_I gotta find an angle."_ Mush.

"_Ye'd think I'd be free-"_

"_It's getting bad out there."_ Crutchie.

"_But I'm chained-"_

"_Papahs is all I got."_ Boots.

"_It's 88 degrees."_ Snipeshooter, Skittery.

"_By papahs-" _

"_Sure hope the headline's hot."_ Pie Eater, Snoddy.

"_All I can catch is fleas." _Bumlets, Swifty, Specs.

"_All I know is-"_

"_God help me if it's not."_ Snitch, Jake, Tumbler.

"_Somebody help me, please."_ Dutchy, Snoddy, Itey.

By this point the counterpart singing had ended, and most of the newsies gathered behind Jackie as she finished her pained song and shoved her cap back onto her head forcefully.

"_If I hate the headline, I'll make up a headline, an' I'll say anything I hafta."_ The newsies behind Jackie joined in once again, and they all sang in unison and danced to choreography they all somehow knew.

"_'Cause it's two for a penny, if I take too many Weasel just makes me eat 'em aftah." _They looked up and to the left, and saw a few newsies on a ledge pointing at a large chalkboard sign, where three men were writing up the headline.

"_Look! They're putting up the headline,"_ the few newsies sang.

"_What's it say?"_ the newsies on the ground sang.

"_They call that a headline?"_

"_That won't pay!"_

"_I get better stories from the copper on the beat!"_

"_I was gonna start with twenty!"_

"_So, where's your spot?"_

"_But a dozen'll be plenty"_

"_God, it's hot!"_

_"Tell me,"_ the newsies' voices rang out, joining once more, _"how I'm gonna make ends meet?"_ At this point, the newsies had made it to Newsies Square, where a statue of Horace Greeley stood tall and proud. On either side of the Square was the Distribution Office and The World Building.

_"We need ta move tha next edition. Give us an earthquake or a war!"_ The newsies danced to their words, throwing an invisible paper, shaking as if the ground were moving, and shooting each other with invisible guns. They even threw in another synchronized hip-thrust at one point.

_"How 'bout a crooked politician?"_ Snipeshooter called out, grinning smugly.

_"Man, nitwit, that ain' news no more!"_ The rest of the newsies cried out, some throwing their hats at him. They crowded together again in another dance routine fit for an audience paying upwards of five hundred dollars per seat. But alas, the year was 1899, and not some futuristic time like 2012, where people would actually be interested in the lives of poor newsboys in New York. Besides, the newsies wouldn't have gotten that reference, either.

"_Uptown to Grand Central Station, down to City Hall,"_ they sang. _"We improves our circulation, walk until we fall!"_ The newsies all danced, spinning and flipping here and there, dancing by themselves or with each other. Even Jackie joined in, only allowing an amused smirk to be seen on her face. Their voices split into counterpart melodies that meshed and molded into one gigantic sound.

"_Still, we'll be out there!"_

"_Look! They're puttin' up a headline! They call that a headline?"_

"_Carryin' da bannah man ta man!"_

"_The idiot who wrote that must be workin' for The Sun!"_

"_Yeah, we'll be out there!"_

"_Didja hear about the fire? Heard it killed Old Man Maguire!"_

"_Soakin' every sucker that we can!"_

"_Heard the toll was even higher! Why do I miss all the fun?"_

"_See the headline."_

"_Hitched it on a trolley."_

"_Newsies on a mission."_

"_Meetcha 44__th__ and 2__nd__."_

"_Kill the competition."_

"_Little Italy's a secret."_

"_Sell the next edition."_

"_Bleecker's further than I reckoned."_

"_While we're out there!"_

"_At the courthouse, near the stables."_

"_Carryin' in da bannah is the…"_

"_On the corner someone beckoned and I…"_

The newsies were hanging in bunches by the gates of the Distribution Center as their voices faded when two tall brothers pushed their way through to the gates.

"Dear me," Racetrack started, taking off his cap and fanning his face. "What is that unpleasant aroma? I fear tha sewer may have backed up during tha night." There were a few snickers from the mass of newsies.

"Nah, too rotten ta be tha sewers," Boots chimed.

"Yeah, yeah," Crutchie said from his spot beside Jackie. "It must be da Delancey bruddas!" The newsies all laughed, where as Jackie just smirked.

"Hiya, boys!" Race greeted the brothers cheerily. They walked up to Snipeshooter menacingly. Oscar grabbed the kid by the back of his neck.

"In the back, ya lousy little shrimp!" With that, Oscar shoved Snipeshooter to the ground. Immediately, the newsies' faces were serious, including Mush's. Jackie's smirk dropped, replaced by a hard glare. She went over to Snipeshooter and pulled him up.

"It's not good to do that…not healthy…" Racetrack warned the brothers as Jackie walked back over to them. She stood on a small crate that was in front of them to make up for her lack of height. She looked Oscar straight in the eye.

"Ya shouldn' be callin' people 'lousy little shrimps,' Oscar. Unless you're referrin' to tha fam'ly resemblance in you and your brudda, here." One side of Jackie's mouth popped up ever so slightly in a smug smirk as Oscar's face melted into an ugly glare. Morris stood beside him, expression blank.

"Hey, hey, hey! 5 to 1, Cowboy skunks 'em! Who's bettin'?" Racetrack called out to the newsies from behind Jackie. There was a chorus of laughs, groans, "No way's," and "Nah's." Jackie turned to face Morris, eyebrows raised.

"That's right," she told him, "it's an insult. So's this!" Jackie flipped Morris's hat off his head, jumped off the crate and ran away, the two brothers chasing after her. She ran toward a cart, slid onto her back, and rolled underneath it. The brothers climbed on top of the cart, only to be kicked to the ground by Jackie, who had managed to swing out to hit them from under an awning. She dropped to the street and sprinted over to the statue of Horace Greeley. Jackie was looking over her shoulder when she ran into a cushioned wall.

"Oi!" Jackie called out as she hit the ground. When she opened her eyes after the impact, a hand was held in front of her face, and she took it. She was pulled up quickly, and was about to thank the person when her dark brown eyes met another pair of startling bright blue ones. Her breath caught in her throat. The pair of eyes belonged to a teenage boy, no older than Jackie herself. He was wearing a dark brown cap on his head and his face was etched with concern and curiosity. Their hands dropped as soon as Jackie was back on her feet. Jackie noticed a much smaller boy at his side, looking up at her in awe and, like Blue Eyes, curiosity.

"What do you think you're doing?" He asked her. Jackie looked over her shoulder again to find the Delancey brothers struggling to get past a few newsies in order to get to her. She turned back to the boy with a smirk that caused his eyebrow to raise.

"Runnin'!" Jackie yelled behind her as she ran around the statue and toward the Distribution Center. Blue Eyes was staring incredulously after her when Oscar knocked into him, spinning him around. Before he could fully regain his balance, Morris barreled into him as well, pushing past to follow his brother.

Jackie had slowed to a jog, smirk still plastered on her face as the newsies began to sing around her.

"_We'll all be out there, carryin' da bannah man ta man! We're always out there, soakin' every sucker that we can!"_ Ironically enough, at that line, Jackie was pushed to the ground by the Delancey's. The newsies formed a circle around them, cheering Jackie on in her fight with the brothers. Every time one of them threw a punch, Jackie would duck easily; she even landed a few punches herself.

"_See the headline, newsies on a mission, kill the competition, sell the next edition,"_ the newsies sang out. The Delancey's were on either side of Jackie, ready to punch. At the last second, she ducked, and the brothers punched each other, falling to the ground. Jackie swaggered away and climbed the gates of the Distribution Center as the newsies crowded in front of it, singing and yelling.

"_We'll be out there, carryin' da bannah! See us out there, carryin' da bannah! Always out there, carryin' da bannah! Ahhhh, go!"_

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**A/N: Well, there ya have it. Chapter one.**

**Review! Let me know if ya love it. Or if ya hate it. A review's a review. Also, should I keep writing in phonetics, or should I write with correct spelling and just leave it up to your imagination? If you'd prefer the latter, I'd even go back to change this chapter for you. Just let me know what needs to be done! Thank you, lovelies!**


	2. Blue Eyes

**A/N: I'm back. Here's chapter two! Just to let you all know, the spelling of "Crutchie" is different from that of the movie. I've been writing it the way they do for the Broadway musical. Sorry for any confusion.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies in any way, blah, blah, blah…you just want me to cry, don't you?**

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The newsies broke out into cheers as the distribution bell began to ring. The gates opened, Jackie still holding on; she grabbed a nearby rope and swung down to the ground. The newsies lined up for their papers, Jackie at the front, congratulating her on her win against the Delancey's. The aforementioned brothers stalked past Jackie with furious glares on their faces.

"See you tomorrow, Cowboy," Morris sneered. His left cheek had already begun to swell up.

"You're as good as dead, Cowboy," Oscar threatened. Jackie let out an amused chuckle while keeping her face in an uninterested expression. She walked over to the distribution desk and rapped on the wood.

"Oh, Mistah Weasel," she sang, still looking as bored as ever. Behind the metal bars, the wooden curtain was pulled up and away, revealing a middle aged man with a dirty face. His expression was stuck in a disgusted sneer.

"Alright, alright. Hold your horses! I'm comin', I'm comin'," he muttered. Jackie pushed her eyebrows together and raised them in an innocent manner.

"So, didja miss me, Weasel? Huh? Didja miss me," Jackie asked, her voice dripping with fake sincerity. The newsies behind her snickered and enjoyed the show. Jackie was naturally stoic and quiet, and it was a treat for them to see her so talkative and funny. Weasel, however, looked pained.

"I told ya a million times. The name's Wisel. Mistah Wisel, to you. How many?" Weasel's exasperated voice asked. Jackie had taken a paper, turned her back to him, and leaned against the metal bars. She unfolded the paper and scanned the pages.

"Don' rush me, I'm perusin' tha merchandise, Mistah Weasel," Jackie retorted smartly. There were a few more chortles from the boys. After another short moment, she refolded the paper and slapped a coin down onto the wooden counter of sorts, another bored expression gracing her features.

"The usual," she stated in a strong voice; she was a leader after all.

"Hundred papes for the wise ass," Weasel told Morris. "Next!" Jackie grabbed her papers and turned away. Racetrack took her spot. He smiled at Weasel.

"Mornin', your Honor," he greeted. He put his cigar to his lips and struck a match on a metal bar. "Listen, do me a favor, spot me fifty papes?" He lit his cigar and took a few puffs. "I gotta hot tip in the fourth, won' waste ya money."

"It's a sure thing?" Weasel asked him, a look of interest crossing his face.

"Yeah," Race replied. "Not like last time." Weasel didn't look the least bit reassured, but shrugged it off.

"Fifty papes," he told Morris. "Next!" After Race turned away, Crutchie hobbled up to the front.

"Heya, Mistah Wisel," he started, but whatever else he said was forgotten.

Racetrack sat down next to Jackie on the ledge of the ramp, opening a paper and skimming the headlines.

"Anythin' good this mornin'?" He asked Jackie, though he didn't expect a response from his stoic friend. Jackie doesn't respond, but instead looked up to find a little boy staring at her expectantly.

"'Ey, weren' you with Blue Eyes?" she asked him. In the background, Weasel's voice rang out again.

"Thirty papes for Crutchie. Next!"

"Well, ya wanna sit down?" She asked the little boy. She noticed how his brown eyes held a mischievous twinkle, like he knew a secret no one else did. He flashed a childish grin before obediently sitting down.

"Twenty papes, please," a voice asked behind her. It was one Jackie recognized, but couldn't place, though she didn't think too much of it. "Thanks." Jackie went back to skimming the morning edition, glancing over at the kid. He was staring at her in reverence. Though Jackie didn't show it, it made her slightly uncomfortable.

"Look a' dis," Racetrack began, "'Baby Born with Two Heads.' Must be from Brooklyn." Jackie was about to retort with an insult that would make a Conlon proud when Weasel yelled at some poor bloke.

"Hey, you got your lousy papes, now beat it!"

"I paid for twenty, but only got nineteen," the same barely familiar voice spoke behind her.

"Are you accusin' me of lyin', kid?" Weasel demanded. Okay. Now Jackie was interested. She stood to her feet, leaving her hundred papers in a pile next to Racetrack and the kid. She turned around and saw Blue Eyes talking with Weasel.

"No," he started, looking agitated. "I just want my paper." Jackie didn't break her stride as she walked over to the small stack of newspapers in front of Blue Eyes.

"He said beat it," Morris told Blue Eyes menacingly. Jackie flipped through the newspapers, counting them quickly.

"No," she drawled, "it's nineteen, Weasel." Jackie smirked, amused. "It's nineteen, but don' worry about it. It's an honest mistake. I mean, Morris, here, can' count to twenty with his shoes on," she said in a fake apologetic voice. Morris moved forward quickly, grabbing at the bars in front of Jackie's face, but she leaned just far enough back to be out of his reach. She turned her head toward Racetrack.

"'Ey, Race, will ya spot me two bits?" she asked, eyebrows raised. He fished in his pocket for a quarter and flipped it up to her. Jackie caught it effortlessly, and a brief look of annoyance flashed across Blue Eyes' face. Jackie smirked a bit wider at that, and turned back to Weasel.

"Another fifty for my friend," she stated, clapping Blue Eyes on the back. He looked torn between glaring at Jackie and refusing the offer. He chose to refuse.

"Oh, I don't want another fifty," he told Weasel with a grimace, but Morris had already handed the newspapers to Jackie, who in turn, shoved them into Blue Eyes' chest.

"Sure ya do. Every newsie wants more papes," she told him, as if it were the most obvious and natural thing in the world. She walked away from him, and grabbed her stack of newspapers, hoisting them onto her shoulder. Blue Eyes just glared and followed her down the ramp.

"I don't. I don't want your papes. I don't take charity from anyone," Jackie gave a light scoff at this notion, "I don't know you, and I don't care to." Alright. Those words stung just a little. Jackie just wasn't too sure why. "Here are your papes," Blue Eyes finished.

Jackie faced him abruptly, tilting her chin up and narrowing her eyes. Though she was quite a bit shorter than him, Blue Eyes looked more than a little intimidated as he stood in front of her with the thick stack of newspapers held out in front of him. The little boy from earlier rushed up to them, tugging on Blue Eyes' arm.

"Cowboy. They call him Cowboy," he stage whispered. Jackie pursed her lips; she knew she was supposed to act like a guy on the streets, but if people truly kept mistaking her as a guy, she wondered if she'd ever look like a proper lady. She banished the thought as soon as it came, though, and placed her papers into Mush's empty arms.

"Yeah, dey call me dat an' a lotta otha things, includin' Jack Kelly, which is what me mudda called me," she told them. "So, whatta they call you, kid?"

"Les, and this is my brother, David," he said excitedly, gesturing to Blue Eyes quickly. "He's older." Jackie smirked, looking up at David with a gleam in her eyes.

"No kiddin'," she joked. David just cast her a disappointed look. "How old are you, Les?" Jackie asked the kid, bending down to his height.

"Me? Near ten," he answered. Jackie furrowed her eyebrows together, twisted her mouth around and clicked her tongue a couple of times before replying.

"Near ten…well, that's no good. If anyone asks, ya seven." Les nodded, his eyes wide. "Ya see, younger sells more papes, an' if we're gonna be partners, we wanna be the best," Jackie told him. David's face contorted in annoyance and confusion, and he lightly pushed Jackie's shoulder back away from Les. She straightened up, glaring at David.

"Wait, who said anything about being partners?" David asked her. Jackie's eyebrows rose.

"Well, you owe me two bits, right?" David shrugged at her, an incredulous look on his face. "I'll consider that an investment," she told him. "We sell togetha, an' split…seventy-thoity, plus, you get tha benefit of obsoivin' me, no charge." Jackie smirked up at him smugly.

"Ah-ha!" David laughed. Jackie's smirk melted into a fierce glare.

"Ah-ha!" she mocked. As the three had been talking, the newsies who had already bought their newspapers gathered around them, listening intently. Crutchie hobbled over with his thirty newspapers and tapped David on the shoulder.

"Hey, you're gettin' the chance of a lifetime here, Davey." Crutchie leaned forward as to emphasize his next statement. "Ya learn from Captain Jack, here, ya learn from tha best." The other newsies murmured in agreement. The smug smirk returned to Jackie's face, much to David's chagrin. After a moment, a smirk of his own crept onto his face, causing Jackie's mouth to twitch once.

"Well, if he's the best, then how come he needs me?" David asked aloud.

There was a low chorus of "Ooohhhh's" amongst the newsies. Jackie's smirk stayed on her face, though her eyes did narrow fractionally at David. She looked around at her newsies, seeing that most of them had dropped their nonchalant and care-free attitudes. She took this as them trying to decide whether David was someone they'd need to worry about or not. Even Mush's ever-present smile was gone from his face; instead, his eyebrows were pushed together and his lips were in a pout. Though Jackie would never admit it, she found his expression endearing. She looked at David once more, still smirking.

"Look, I don' need you, pal," she stated confidently. She grabbed Les's shoulder, pulling him toward her gently, ruffling his hair. "But I ain' gotta cute little brudda like Les, here, ta front for me. With this kid's puss, and my God given talent," at this comment, David rolled his eyes, "we could move a thousand papes a week." She leaned down to Les. "So, whattaya say, Les? Ya wanna sell with me?"

"Yeah!" Les exclaimed, grinning widely. Jackie straightened up again and looked at David expectantly.

"So we gotta deal?" David pursed his lips, and sighed.

"It's gotta be at least fifty-fifty," he bargained. It was Jackie's turn to think for a second.

"Sixty-fourty, I forget tha whole thing," she said finally.

David nodded and held out his hand. Jackie smirked and spit in her own palm, but before she could grasp his hand in hers, he snatched his arm away. She looked at him, confused.

"'Sa matta?" she asked loudly. David looked at her as if she was crazy.

"That's disgusting," he replied.

The newsies around them snickered, but Jackie's face was frozen. She blinked once; then twice…then her shoulders began to shake. After a second or two, Jackie started full out laughing.

"Ha ha ha, oh man. 'Tha's disgustin',' I'll have ta use dat one!" Jackie choked out in between barks of laughter. The rest of the newsies looked on in wonder and confusion. Kid Blink was the last of the newsies to grab his papers, and he walked over to Jackie and David with his one eyebrow set high on his forehead.

"Wow, Davey," Kid Blink started, "what'd you say? I haven't seen Cowboy laugh like that in…foreva!" David was slightly confused by that comment.

"Nevermind the laugh, I don't think I've eva seen Cowboy smile!" Snipeshooter claimed. Jackie had calmed down enough to where she was just chuckling when she grabbed her papers back from Mush.

"Ah, shuddit, ya bummas," she laughed out. She began walking away and the rest of the newsies followed, David and Les pushing through to the front to get next to Jackie.

"The name of the game's volume, Dave," she addressed him, not even bothering to look his way. "You only took twenty papes…why?" She stopped, finally turning to face him. The rest of the newsies stopped with them; for some reason, they were all interested in how this new partnership, or dare they say, friendship, was going to start.

"Bad headline," David shrugged. Jackie's mouth twisted for a moment, then, shock of all shocks, the smirk was back. Who could blame her? Her best friend was the infamous Spot Conlon; everyone knew that. Everyone except David.

"Tha's tha foist thing ya gotta loin. Headlines don' sell papes, newsies sell papes." The newsies laughed in agreement. "Ya know, we're what holds this town together. Without newsies, nobody knows nothin'!" Jackie claimed with finality, sweeping her arm down in emphasis.

At that moment, a beautiful dark haired girl in a school uniform was spotted by the newsies, and they all took their hats off in respect, making a few comments here and there; even David and Les joined them. Jackie, however, just widened her smirk, and tipped her hat up ever so slightly at the passing girl. The brunette blushed and smiled shyly at Jackie before rushing away.

"Ya know," Racetrack mused, "I finds it ironic that you'se is the lady killa among us, Captain Jack." Jackie let out a bark of laughter, and a ripple of chuckles went through the newsies. David was thoroughly confused.

"Baby born with three heads!" Specs called out.

"Welcome to Hell, Davey," Jackie warned the teenager. She flashed him a rare smile, to which he gave yet another confused look.

* * *

**A/N: Well. There it is.**

**Review. Come on. Click the button. Jackie would want you to. And you wouldn't want to disappoint Jackie, would you?**

**Until next time, goodbye, my lovelies!**


	3. I Never Planned On Someone Like You

**A/N: Ehehehe! Chapter three! Oh, man. I'm having way too much fun with this story. The inspiration just keeps FLYING! **

**OH MAN. You guys meet the new Medda this chapter! I'm taking from the Broadway musical for Medda's character, which, to be honest, I like a lot better.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies. Although you can bet your ass to Hell I wish I did.**

* * *

"What? Welcome to Hell? Whoa!" David muttered to himself, but his confusion was interrupted by a bombardment of newsies. They began yelling out their various versions of the headlines, pushing past each other in order to get to their selling spots. While David was crushed in the crowd, Les managed to stay with Jackie. Even through all the yelling going on around him, he could still make out Jackie's laughter, which he decided, sounded much too feminine for a boy.

* * *

"'Trolley Strike Drags on for Third Week'," an old man in a large chair read tiredly. He had a receding hairline and a beard made up of thin light brown hairs. He wore an expensive looking suit, and his office was well decorated. In one hand, he was clutching a copy of the morning edition of the World; in his other hand was a magnifying glass to read the headline with. He spun around to face his desk and the other two men in the room. "And this so called headline drags on for infinity," he complained, dropping the newspaper onto his large desk.

This old man was the infamous Joseph Pulitzer, creator of The World. Before him stood three of his employees, Seitz, Bunsen and Hannah. Seitz was a plump older gentleman with white hair and a young face. Bunsen was tall and thin, with a balding head and a dark mustache. Hannah was a middle aged woman with graying hairs amidst blonde tucked into a loose bun on her head. She wrung her hands together, worry etched on her face.

"News is slow, Mr. Pulitzer. The trolley strike's all we've got!" she reasoned. Pulitzer gave her a sharp glare.

"Well, that's all Mr. William Randolph Hearst has, too, but look how he covers the strike. Look! Look! Look!" He pulled up another newspaper entitled New York Journal. The headline read "Nude Corpse on Rails Not Connected to Trolley Strike."

"We'll get a new headline, sir," Hannah assured.

"Steal Hearst's man. Offer him double."

"That's how he stole him from us," Seitz reminded them. "It's not the headlines, Chief. The circulation wars are cutting into our profits because you spend as much as you make trying to beat Hearst."

"Then we need to make more money," Pulitzer replied matter-of-factly, holding a cigar in his hand. "You do not penny-pinch when you're in a war, Seitz. Victory means everything. Now, when I created The World…"

Seitz rolled his eyes at the comment, while Pulitzer went silent for a moment. A confused look crossed his features.

"What is that deafening noise?" Pulitzer asked his employees. Hannah looked just as confused as he, while recognition dawned on Bunsen's face.

"Just the newsies, sir," he informed. "I'll go have them quieted." Bunsen turned to leave, but Pulitzer waved his hand at him, dismissing the notion.

"Nevermind the newsies. Where was I?"

"Creating The World, Chief," Seitz drawled in a bored tone. Pulitzer nodded, folding his hands together on his desk.

"There's lots of money down there, gentlemen. I want to know how I can get more of it…by tonight."

* * *

Jackie had finally pulled David out of the mosh pit of newsies, dragging him to her daily selling spot: the boxing rings. It's not that she favored violence; she was a good fighter and all, taught by the best, but when it came down to it, Jackie hated it when people had to resort to violence. The fighting rings made for a good selling day, though, and Jackie figured that if it kept her off the streets at night and with at least one meal in her stomach a day, it was worth it.

"Extra! Extra! Trolley strike drags on!" David called out. No one gave him a second look.

"Extry! Extry! Ellis Island in flames!" Jackie yelled. A man flagged her down, snatching himself a copy and handing Jackie a penny.

"Wait, where's that story?" David was confused. Again. He definitely did not remember reading such an article. Jackie still faced her customer.

"Thank you, sir," she gave him a little bow. "Page nine," she told David. "Thousands flee in panic!" She was flagged down once again, this time by two young women. "Thank you. Much obliged to you, ladies," Jackie smirked. The girls giggled and blushed as she walked away; David was close on her heals as he found the article Jackie had been referring to.

"'Trash Fire Next to Immigration Building Terrifies Seagulls'?" he asked incredulously. Jackie smirked back at him, but otherwise continued selling.

"Terrified flight of inferno! Thousands of lives at stake! Extra! Extra!" Another customer. "Thank you, sir. Extra! Extra!"

David gave Jackie a less than pleased look, to which she responded with a half shrug. Les ran in from the back of the crowd, eyes bright with excitement. Jackie kneeled down to his level.

"A'right, ya start in tha back like a told ya?" Les nodded quickly. Jackie chuckled, the smallest of smiles on her lips. "Okay, show me again." Les pulled a pathetically sad face, and coughed weakly.

"Buy me last pape, mistah?" he wheezed. Jackie grinned at him, clearly pleased.

"It's heartbreakin', kid. Go get 'em!" She ruffled his hair a bit before he scampered off to sell his papers. Jackie stood up, meeting David's accusatory look.

"My father taught us not to lie," he told her apprehensively. Jackie turned her face away from him.

"Yeah, well mine taught me not to starve." Her voice was tight and her face hardened into a scowl. She faced David, scowl lessening slightly. "So we both got an education." She started to walk away, handing out papers to paying customers. David followed, still trying to reason with her.

"You're just making things up…all these headlines." Jackie stopped, shrugging and pulling a bored and uninterested face.

"I don' do nothin' tha guys who write it don' do. Anyway, it's not lyin', it's just improvin' tha truth a little." She finished with another shrug just as Les ran up to them after pushing past a few people.

"The guy gave me a quarter! Quick, gimme some more last papers!" Les's eyes were wide with excitement, and he was itching to sell more. David wrinkled his nose and grabbed his brother's shoulder, bending down to sniff his breath.

"Wait, wait…" David was definitely confused. "You smell like beer."

"Well, that's how I made the quarter," Les shrugged. "The guy bet me I wouldn't drink some." He was about to scamper off before Jackie's hand clapped him on the shoulder. She kneeled down and looked him straight in the eyes.

"'Ey, no drinkin' on the job. It's bad for business." Les looked slightly ashamed. Jackie's usually stoic face turned concerned, though, much to David's surprise. David, although, wasn't sure why he was so surprised by this. "An' what if somebody called tha cop on ya?"

At that moment, David glanced away, doing a double take when he realized someone was watching them and getting closer, ever so slowly. He had white hair underneath his black hat, and he was dressed in a suit. He wore a disgustingly smug smile on his face as he watched Jackie. David tapped her on the shoulder.

"Is he a friend of yours?" he asked, pointing at the old man. Jackie followed his hand, and then froze. Her face paled instantly, stuck in a horrified expression.

"Look, Jack, maybe he jus-" David's words were stopped when Jackie suddenly grabbed a fistful of David's shirt and Les's arm.

"Beat it! It's tha bulls!" she cried as she all but dragged them with her.

"All this over one sip of beer?" Les asked quickly.

Jackie dragged the brothers in one direction, only to be stopped by the sight of a policeman heading her way. She let go of the two and climbed into the boxing ring. She ran across and jumped down; David and Les followed suit, but unfortunately, the old man did, too. Jackie ran through a small alley over some boxes, Les behind her and David behind him.

"Let's go, Les, come on!" David huffed out, nearly pushing Les to go faster. Not a second behind them was the old man.

"Hurry up, come on!" David shouted again. "Come on, hurry up! Hurry up!" The two of them struggled to keep up with Jackie as she led them down and across a busy street and up to a white staircase.

"Sullivan!" The old man cried out, blowing his whistle.

"Up this way," Jackie told the two, waiting at the bottom step until they got there.

"Alright, I got you, I got you," David told Les, pulling him up by the arm. "Let's go!" They ran up another flight of stairs once they got inside the building. There was a drunk about half way up the stairs, sleeping.

"Sleeper!" Jackie called back, jumping over the unconscious man swiftly.

"Okay, jump!" David ordered, and Les quickly complied. They both made it past the first obstacle on the flight of stairs, but David noticed that the old man was not even a full staircase away. "Hurry up, hurry up," he said again, passing by a little girl sitting on the stairs. "He's right behind us, he's right behind us!" David warned, practically picking Les up and plowing up the stairs.

"Move!" the old man yelled knocking a man to the ground. David almost jumped at how close his voice sounded, but instead kicked his muscles into overdrive. Up ahead, he saw Jackie burst through a door, and he followed. He was just fast enough to run through the door and see Jackie jump over the edge of the roof, yelling as she went down. He and Les stopped, completely thrown off. After a quick moment, though, Jackie's head popped up just above the ledge. She waved her hand at them, ushering them over. The two boys ran to the edge, and seeing that it only led to another ledge, ran down to Jackie over a ramp to the side. The pressed their backs to the wall, listening for the old man.

"Sullivan," they heard suddenly. David saw Jackie twitch in fear at the sound out of the corner of his eye. He turned his face to her, noticing how she was completely pale, save her cheeks, which were red from running. He imagined his cheeks didn't look so different.

"Wait till I get you back to the Refuge!" the voice cried out again. Jackie looked over to David and Les to find them both staring at her. She nodded her head to the side, crawling as quietly as she could down another flight of stairs. The two boys followed her, and as soon as she hit the street, she started running again. David, this time, ran ahead of her, and turned around suddenly, stopping. Jackie didn't stop fast enough and ran right into him; he didn't budge, and she fell to the street with a grunt.

"Oi! Really, this again?" She yelled, glaring daggers at David as she stood.

"I'm not running any further," he said with finality. Les had come to a stop beside David, panting. Jackie brushed some of the dirt off her front, waving her arm towards the door they stopped in front of, still glaring up at David fiercely. The sign read "Irving Hall," and it was clearly a back entrance. Jackie led them through.

"I want some answers," David demanded loudly.

"Shhh!" Jackie threw her hands in the air, exasperated. David, though, was adamant.

"Who was he, and why was he chasing you? And what is this Refuge?"

Jackie rolled her eyes, and gestured at Les as if he didn't want the little guy who looked up to her to know. David just glared at Jackie until she sighed in defeat. Her head hung low as she slid her cap off, revealing her unruly mess of dark brown curly hair. Even though it was still tied back, there were strands sticking out her and there. Jackie rubbed the back of her arm against her forehead.

"The refuge is a jail for kids," she said in a low voice, wringing her cap in her hands. She had a far off look in her eye as she kept going. "That guy chasin' me was Snyder, the warden." Les's head shot up.

"You were in jail?" he asked her, eyes as wide as saucers.

"Yeah," she answered regretfully.

"Why?"

"Well, I was starvin', so I stole some food," she replied, shrugging. David scoffed at her answer.

"Food?" he repeated doubtfully. Jackie sent him another death glare, and she swore she saw him swallow.

"Yeah, food," she told him venomously.

"He called you Sullivan," David pressed.

"Well, me name's Kelly. Jack Kelly. Ya think I'm lyin'?"

"Well, you have a way of improving the truth," David said, cocking his head to the side. Jackie could not believe that he had just used her own words against her. "And you cover up the fact that you're a girl quite well. You had me going there for a while."

At David's words, Jackie's hand shot to the top of her head to feel for her cap, but only succeeding in noticing that she herself was the one who took it off. She dropped her hand in front of her face with a bewildered expression.

"Oops…ah well. Ya win some, ya lose some" she muttered to herself, reaching back up again to untie her hair. Once she did, her hair fell down to just below her shoulder in a curly mess, and she tried to tame it slightly before giving up and shoving her cap onto her head again, this time leaving her hair down.

"Why was he chasing you?" David asked, not even batting an eye at the news. If he were to be honest, when Jackie took off her cap, David was relieved at the knowledge of Jackie being a girl. There was also a tightening in the pit of his stomach when he noticed for the first time that her eyes were a lovely shade of brown when she glared at him, but he wasn't about to let these new and unfamiliar feelings sway his need for answers.

"He's chasin' me 'cause I escaped," she answered, shaking her head lightly.

"Oh, boy! How?" Les asked excitedly. He didn't exactly seem too fazed over the new discovery either. In fact, Jackie's being a girl made him look up to her even more. Jackie grinned down at him, an action she had been doing more than she had in the last ten years since she met David and Les.

"Well, this big shot gave me a ride out on his carriage," she replied smugly.

"I bet it was the mayor," David mocked, earning another glare from Jackie.

"No, Teddy Roosevelt. Eva hoid of him?" She shot back, her Brooklyn accent shining through.

"What's goin' on down there? Out! Out! Out!" a voice came suddenly from the top of a set of stairs. A beautiful dark-skinned woman walked down in a large, fancy dress and gaudy make up that somehow didn't detract from her beauty. In her hand, she held a large purple fan made up of large feathers, matching her dress. Upon hearing her voice, Jackie face slowly split into a lopsided grin and she turned to face the older woman.

"You wouldn' kick me out without a farewell song, wouldja Medda?" Jackie asked. Medda stopped for a moment before recognizing Jackie. She returned the smile, leaning back as she chuckled lightly.

"Oh, Kelly! Where ya been, kid? I miss seein' ya up in the balcony." She pulled Jackie in for a hug, and David was infinitely surprised when Jackie returned it. She leaned back smiling widely.

"Hangin' on every note, sent straight from Heaven above," Jackie reminisced. Medda laughed, rolling her eyes. Jackie pulled away, turning back to the two brothers standing before them. "So, Medda. This is David an' Les."

"Hello," Medda greeted cheerily.

"An' this," Jackie stated proudly, "is the greatest star of the Vaudeville stage today, Miss Medda Larkin."

"Welcome, gentlemen," Medda declared, curtsying politely.

"Medda also owns tha joint," Jackie added. Medda caught sight of Les, and bent down to his height.

"Well, what have we here?" She asked softly. "Oh, ain't you just the cutest little thing that ever was? Yes, you are," she cooed, tickling his face with her feathered fan. Les began coughing weakly, and Medda's face dropped into one of concern.

"Buy me last pape, lady?" Les asked her, pulling up a newspaper and coughing into it weakly. Jackie grinned, proud. Medda smiled slowly.

"Oh, you are good," she told Les. "Oh, yeah this kid is really good!" She tapped Jackie's arm and winked up at her before returning to speak to Les. "Speaking as one professional to another, I'd say you have a great future!" Les gave her a pleased look before Jackie coughed lightly.

"So is it a'right if we stay here for a little while, Medda," Jackie asked, returning to the matter at hand. "Just until a little problem outside goes away," she added quickly. Medda just smiled back warmly.

"Sure, stay as long as you like." A man holding a tray of candies and sweets walked past. "Toby?" She called to him. He turned. "Give my guests whatever they want." He nodded, smiling. Les started grabbing for whatever he could fit into his hands.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" A voice from the stage yelled out. "Please welcome the star of our show, Miss Medda Larkin!"

Medda threw David and Jackie a wink before climbing the stairs onto the stage to sing. David and Jackie left Les to his candy, walking over to side stage to watch Medda, but not before Jackie ruffled his hair and smiled at him.

"_I'm doin' alright for myself, folks. I'm healthy, I'm wealthy I'm wise. My investments in such, have all gone up so much, seems whatever I touch starts to rise."_ The crowd roared in the small pause. _"I've got men, I've got money and yet, the thing I want most I can't get!"_

The music turned show-timey, old and classic ragtime. Medda strolled across the stage in rhythm. Jackie turned her head to see that Les had joined them, a licorice rope dangling from his smiling mouth. The sight of it made her grin.

"_I live in a mansion on Long Island Sound. I pulled up a weed; they found oil in the ground. But you're tellin' me you don't want me around? Now, Honey, that's rich. Some guys give me fur in chinchilla and mink, and some give me diamonds as big as sink, but you wouldn't give me so much as a wink! Now, baby, that's rich."_

She walked over to a swing near stage left, and sat down on it. As she sang, she counted on her fingers. Jackie laughed lightly as Les's head began to sway in time with the music. She then turned back to watch Medda.

"_I get brandy from Andy, and candy from Scott; oh, and Frank and Eduardo chipped in for a yacht. I get stares from the fellas, and prayers from the Pope, but I ran out my luck getting stuck on some dope!"_

She stood, and stalked her way to center stage, hand on her hip, oozing with attitude.

"_Now listen, sport, this life's too short to waste it one you. It may be rough, but soon enough, I'll learn to make do with…"_ Medda held out the note, teasing her audience. Jackie glanced at David, smirking as she sang with Medda, having heard the song a hundred times.

"_The mansion, the oil, well the diamonds, they yacht; with Andy, Eduardo, the pontiff, and Scott, and Frank, ooo, and my bank! So spill no tears for me."_

David stared at Jackie incredulously as she sang along, a small nostalgic smile on her face. Jackie looked back at David to find him staring, but kept singing along, her smile sliding into a smirk.

"'_Cause there's one thing you ain't that I'll always be, and, Honey, yeah that's right, that's rich! That's rich! That's rich!" _

Jackie harmonized with Medda, making David grin as well. She stopped singing, but kept staring at David as Medda finished the song with a resounding _"That's rich!"_

Jackie couldn't stop thinking about how incredible she thought his eyes were; they were just so _blue_. She also couldn't help thinking about how she was really confused at all these new feelings. Did she like David? Well, yeah. He made her laugh, he was quick on his feet, and he had brains. But other than that? She had no idea, and that scared her more than anything.

While Jackie was thinking, so was David. He was thinking about Jackie's eyes, and how they sparkled when she sang. And when she glared. And when she smirked. At the thought of her smirk, David could suddenly think of nothing else but her lips. How could he have seen her face and _not_ known she was a girl? How did he assume otherwise? He was kicking himself for not noticing earlier. But, since the discovery, David had felt a little…weird. His stomach tightened into knots when he noticed her eyes, and it did back flips whenever she looked at him. And what was that weird tingling and warmth he felt when he heard her laugh just a minute ago? David was so confused.

The crowd roared, and the noise was so sudden, Jackie flinched, turning away from David quickly. David blushed, clearing his throat lightly. Jackie watched as Medda bowed over and over again, and the crowd's cheering seemed like it would never end. Jackie spared one last glance at David and Les before backing away slowly. David was whispering something to Les and Les was smiling all the while. Jackie was inching her way towards an exit when Medda spotted her from onstage and rushed over, grabbed her arm and pulled her onstage.

David and Les looked more than a little shocked, but it was nothing compared to Jackie's expression. She almost looked _afraid_. The thought of it made David snicker.

"Folks, how'd y'all like to hear a little somethin' from our very own leader of the Manhattan newies? Y'all remember her, don'tcha?" Medda shouted at her audience, a mischievous smile on her face. The crowd's roar was deafening, and there were definitely more than a few wolf whistles. Medda beamed and faced Jackie, who was glaring at her like there was no tomorrow.

"Ah, don't worry, kid! You're a natural on stage. It won't be nothin' too big…I'll have my girls sing somthin' behind ya, how 'bout that?" Medda whispered to her, practically begging. Jackie slid her cap off her head and chewed on the inside of her cheek before rolling her eyes.

"Fine," she muttered, "but don' expect me ta be happy about dis…"

"That's the spirit, Kelly!" Medda laughed, walking offstage as the crowd started up once more. A light, carefree melody started in the orchestra.

"Sing us a love song, sweetheart, ha ha…" a shout came from the crowd. It was a young man, obviously inebriated. His comment spurred on others.

"Yeah, a love song!" Another yelled.

"You're such a cute thing…" another voice called out. Jackie thought he was a pretty daring one, and proceeded to glare at the crowd as the music turned soft and sweet. She looked angry and strong, but she kept wringing her cap in her hands to keep her nerves down. She turned her head to stage right, where she had been standing with David and Les not a minute ago. David was watching her intently. She was surprised when he smirked at her, and gestured forward. It almost seemed like a challenge…and that is why Jackie smirked back and began to sing.

"_I got no use for moonlight, or sappy poetry. Love at first sight's for suckers,"_ Jackie began, acting her way through the lyrics, seeming tough before turning almost shy and confused. _"At least it used ta be. Guys are nice, once or twice, till they find someone new but, I neva planned on someone,"_ Jackie looked over at David, winking at him with the eye that wasn't currently facing the audience, _"like you."_

Three petite young women in fancy show dresses danced onstage and sang a tune behind Jackie as she strolled across the stage.

"_Don't come a-knockin' on my door, you aren't welcome here no more,"_ the girls sang.

"_I got no use for moonlight-"_

"_I should have known you stunk like yesterday's trash-"_

"_Or sappy poetry."_

"_The night you stole my heart, plus forty dollars in cash!"_

"_Love at first sight's-"_

"_Turns out my beau is just some bum, turns out that love ain't blind but dumb!"_

"_For sucka's-"_

"_You never told the truth or worked a day in your life!"_

"_At least it used-"_

"_In fact you're so revoltin', I'd feel bad for your wife!"_

"_Ta be!" _

Jackie made her way over to stage right once more, but instead of going offstage, she started climbing to sit on a balcony ledge. David looked bewildered, and the girls continued to sing, but it never reached to two teenager's ears.

"What are you doing?" David asked loudly.

"Quiet down! There's a show goin' on!" Jackie stage whispered back with a smirk. David dropped his head back, shaking it lightly.

"You are the most impossible girl-"

"Shh…" Jackie put her finger to her lips, interrupting David's complaint. He scowled back playfully, earning him an amused grin from her lips. David's stomach did another flip.

"Ever," David retorted in a whisper. Jackie just chuckled, jumping off the ledge and landing on the stage without a noise. She strolled back to center stage as the girls sang behind her before closing the song herself.

"_Don't come a-knockin' on my door!"_

"_No, I neva planned on someone like you."_

At the final note, the crowd went wild, cheering and yelling and whistling like there was no tomorrow. Jackie bowed, almost seeming modest before looking over at David, Les and Medda. Medda's face looked ready to split in two because of her wide set grin. Les had his mouth half stuffed with more rope candy and was clapping excitedly. David, though, was smirking, arms folded across his chest. Jackie quirked her eyebrow at him, and he responded by widening his smirk and clapping slowly. Jackie took her time walking over to the three, her smirk mirroring David's.

* * *

**A/N: DONE. With this chapter, at least. There's still an entire strike to go through, people!**

**Review, because you know you should, deep down. Until next time, my lovelies!**


	4. Santa Fe: The Dream

**A/N: I have returned! Bwahahaha! Mmk. Go on, dear reader, and then review. There's a nifty little box at the bottom of the page.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies. But Jackie is pretty much mine. I think.**

* * *

After listening to a few more songs, Jackie and the brothers said their goodbyes and made their way out the backdoor. The air was cool and the sky was dark as Jackie pulled out a cigarette and a match. She leaned into the wall, lighting her roll quickly before waving the match's flame out. She hopped up onto a shoe-shining stool, and Les settled for standing by her side. Jackie's gaze slid to David. He was staring off into nothing, a ghost of a smile on his face.

"So," Jackie drawled, breaking the silence. David's face snapped up to hers. "Didja like it?"

"Oh, I loved it. It was great. Beautiful." David complimented. "How do you know her, Medda?" he asked cocking his head to the side. Jackie looked out at the street, eyes hardening.

"She was a friend of me fadder's," she said tightly, and David knew he hit a sore subject, so he didn't press the matter further. Instead, he stayed silent and watched as Jackie took long dragging breaths on her cigarette and then blowing out streams of smoke. David reached into his pocket for his watch, flipping it open. Was it really that late? David looked back at Jackie.

"It's getting late. My parents are going to be worried," he told her. She just nodded in response, her eyes hardening even more. David was hesitant, but kept going. "What about yours?" he asked in a soft voice. Jackie turned to face him from her spot and he swore he saw sadness flash in her eyes. It was quickly replaced by a stoic mask and another bored tone.

"Nah, dey're out west, lookin' for a place ta live…like this," she pulled out a brochure or comic of sorts. On the front was a cowboy on a horse. The title was 'Western Jim.' She handed it to Les, who looked at it like a piece of treasure. "See, dat's Santa Fe, New Mexico. As soon as dey find tha right ranch, dey're gonna send for me."

"Then you'll be a real cowboy," Les concluded.

"Yeah," Jackie replied softly, looking away. David noticed how the corner of her mouth folded up a fraction as she fingered the red bandanna around her neck. Just as he was about to ask why they left without her, a large crash interrupted him. Jackie's head snapped in the direction of the noise so fast, David heard a crack. She leapt off her seat and sprinted towards the sound of crashes and crackling fire. Jackie could only pray to a god she wasn't even sure existed or not that her boys were okay, and only barely registered that David and Les followed her.

When the three of them rounded the corner, they were met by the sight of a riot; the trolley strike. In front of them, a group of men were beating up another guy. Jackie fought the urge to help the poor man, clenching her fists at her side and telling herself that the guy deserved it for not sticking with his friends.

"Jack!" David yelled over the noise. "Why don't we go to my place and divvy up?" he asked. "You can meet my folks." His voice had an almost pleading tone. Jackie nodded once, but never took her sight off the beating.

"It's tha trolley strike, Dave," she spoke in a solemn voice. "An' dat right dere is a dumbass who decided not ta join tha union." Her tone was bitter. David grabbed her arm gently.

"Jack, let's get out of here," he begged softly. He didn't like the look on Jackie's face, and to be honest, the brawl was making him sick. Jackie nodded again, turning her head toward David's. They were mere inches away.

"Maybe we'll get a good headline tomorrow, huh, Dave." Jackie sounded slightly disappointed and hopeful at the same time. This time, it was David's turn to nod at her. Jackie sighed, pulling out of David's loose grasp and turning towards Les. He had laid down on a bench on the sidewalk and fallen asleep.

"Look a' dis, he slept tha whole way tru it!" Jackie laughed, grinning softly. She picked him up as gently as she could, and he wrapped his arms and legs around her neck and waist without any warning. Jackie chuckled and slid her arms around his back and locked her hands together.

"Lead tha way," she said up to David. David protested, saying he could carry Les himself, but Jackie wouldn't have it. "Aw, come on, Dave. Have some faith in me! I am the leada of the 'Hattan newsies, ya know. I can handle carryin' a nine year old…" The whole way to the Jacobs' apartment, they argued quietly, so as not to wake up the sleeping boy in Jackie's arms.

"I still don't see why _you _had to carry him…" David muttered when he reached the door to his family's apartment. He blushed, slightly ashamed that he let a girl carry the deadweight of his nearly ten year old brother all the way to his home. He heard Jackie snicker behind him as he opened the door. He was immediately faced by his mother, who wore a worried expression on her face.

"My God, what happened?" She exclaimed as she saw Jackie putting Les back on his feet gently. Jackie stayed by the door awkwardly, not wanting to intrude. For a moment, she thought about just walking out the door.

"Nothin', mama," David reassured her, kissing her on the cheek. "He's just sleeping." While his mother went to fuss over Les and tuck him into bed, David walked over to his father, who's arm was fashioned in a sling.

"We've been waiting dinner for you," he told David. "Where have you been?" In response, David just handed him his last unsold paper, reached into his pocket and dumped out all the change on their table.

"You made all this selling newspapers?" David's father looked bemused.

"Well, only half of it is ours," David told him, walking over to Jackie, placing a warm hand on her shoulder. She looked up at him to see him smiling at her softly before he turned back to his parents. "This is our selling partner, and our friend…ahh…" he paused, realizing for the first time that he'd only called Jackie 'Jack,' and he didn't know her real name.

"Jackie Kelly, pleased ta meet you'se," she greeted, shaking hands with David's father. His mother walked over, having just finished with Les and they shook hands as well.

"These are my parents, Esther and Mayer," David told her in a relieved voice. Jackie nodded and smiled at them. The two of them looked her over, as if assessing her. Jackie shifted uncomfortably, and glanced at David for help. It was the first time David had seen Jackie truly nervous and he found it slightly hilarious that it was due to meeting his parents. He cleared his throat, catching his parents' attention

"Esther," Mayer began, "maybe David's partner would like to join us for dinner." She nodded in agreement. "Why don't you add a little more water to the soup?" he asked, kissing her cheek. She rolled her eyes playfully.

"Mayer!" she protested before going off. Jackie took off her cap, placing in on Les's bedside table. They all sat down to the table, and ate in silence, save the few questions and answers between David and his parents. After dinner, Jackie joined the conversation as Esther cleared the table.

"So, from what I saw today, you're boys are a couple of born newsies," she told Mayer. "Can I have some more, please?" She asked Esther as she took her bowl.

"Of course, dear," she replied.

"So with their hard work and my experience, I figya we can peddle a thousand papes a week an' not even break a sweat," she continued. Mayer looked impressed.

"That many?" he asked her.

"Yeah," Jackie answered, nodding. "More when tha headline's good." There was a slight pause as Esther brought Jackie another bowl of soup.

"Forgive me if I offend you," Mayer started, "but there aren't many girl newsies out there, are there?" Jackie shrugged.

"Nah, there are a couple here and there every once in a while, but none of 'em stick around for very long. 'S far as I know, I'm the only one around right now, and I know a lot about who's around," she finished, smirking.

"She's not just any newsie, papa," David piped.

"Aw, come on, Davey, it's really nothing'…" Jackie muttered, rubbing the back of her neck.

"Oh, what, _now_ you decide to be modest?" David laughed. Jackie narrowed her eyes at him, but smirked nonetheless. Mayer and Esther exchanged looks, but went unnoticed by Jackie and David.

"Jackie's the leader of the Manhattan newsies," he told his parents. His heart gave a flutter as he spoke her name for the first time. He decided he liked calling her Jackie much more than 'Jack.' Esther and Mayer looked shocked at this news.

"Yeah, yeah, I know, it's a shock for all tha newsies when they foist hear about it, too. Some of 'em didn' think dey had ta listen jus 'cause I was some goil, but dey loined da meanin' of respect da hard way." Jackie's face hardened into a glare as she stared at nothing in particular. After a second, she shook herself from her thoughts, slightly embarrassed.

"Well, if you mean to tell me that I have the leader of the Manhattan newsboys, a practical royal of New York, at my table," Mayer smiled, earning a bright grin from Jackie, "Esther? Why don't you go get the cake you've been hiding in the cabinet?"

"That's for your birthday tomorrow!" Esther cried with a mischievous smile on her face.

"Well, I've had enough birthdays. This is a celebration."

"I'll get the knife and plates," David offered, getting up from his place to walk the few steps over to the kitchen area, Esther following.

"This is only the beginning, papa," David said excitedly. "The longer I work, the more money I'll make."

"You'll only work until I go back to the factory, and then you are going back to school, like you promised," Mayer told him firmly. David froze, an oddly disappointed look on his face as he stared a Jackie. He and his mother returned to the table bearing a chocolate cake, plates, forks and a knife.

"Happy birthday, papa," David said softly, with a small smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. Mayer looked at his wife and son proudly.

"This is going to heal," he announced, patting his busted arm. "And they'll give me my job back. We'll make them." Just then, Les stirred in his bed, but stayed asleep.

"…brandy from Andy, and candy from Scott…" he sang softly. Jackie and David both looked back at Les as he snuggled up to his pillow, and then looked at each other. Simultaneously, they cracked up laughing.

"And what is this, David?" Esther's condescending, yet playful, voice asked. It took the two teenagers a whole five minutes to calm down.

"How 'bout some air?" Jackie asked David. He nodded, wiping away tears of mirth from his eyes. He stood and walked over to a window, and Jackie followed suit. They both climbed out to stand of the fire escape, looking out at the city below.

"So, how'd ya pop get hoit?" Jackie asked after a moment of silence.

"At the factory," David answered. "It was an accident. He's no good to them anymore, so they just fired him…he's got no union to protect him." Jackie hummed in response. Another pause went by, but unlike their other lapses in conversations, it was a comfortable one.

"How come you act like a boy? I mean, when I first met you, all the newsies called you Jack, Captain Jack and Cowboy, and all the girls you sell to seem to be taken by you," he teased. Jackie laughed.

"Well, it ain' real safe out here, an' even more so 'cause I'm a goil. I gotta at least try ta keep meself somewhat safe, ya know? I loined how ta fight, how ta command respect, an' how ta lead. Pretty much every newsie in New York knows I'm a goil, though. An' those who don't? Dey jus ain' lookin' hard enough. I mean, look at Oscar and Morris Delancey…dey think I'm just another newsie dey can try ta knock around. If dey knew I was a goil…who knows what those two might try…" She paused for a moment, and David fists clenched at the thought of anyone so much as giving Jackie a dirty look. "An' as for me newsie name? Well, if I'm supposed to be a boy, why would me boys call me 'Cowgirl,' eh, Davey?" She elbowed him playfully, causing him to smile.

"Yeah, I guess that makes sense," he complied. Mayer appeared at the window behind them.

"David, it's time to come in now," he said softly. David nodded as his father moved from the window.

"Alright." He walked toward the window, and Jackie turned toward the fire escape. David quickly turned back to her, grabbing her wrist, surprising the both of them.

"Hey, Jackie, why don't you stay here tonight?" he blurted out before he could even think. He dropped her wrist, heat rising from his neck and up to his cheeks. "I-I mean, I can sleep on the floor, a-and you could take the bed with Les…" he stammered. Jackie smirked at his awkwardness.

"Ah, no thanks. I gotta place a' me own." She paused, taking a moment to look into the window, where Esther was rocking Les and humming a lullaby and Mayer was watching them with a smile on his face. "But you're fam'ly's real nice, Dave…like mine."

"Well, okay…if you're sure…" Everything in David's tone told Jackie he was worried about her, and the thought made her heart flutter. She flashed him a reassuring smile, which he returned brightly.

"Alright, see you tomorrow," he said, walking backwards toward his window.

"A'right." She nodded at him, holding back the laughter bubbling up inside of her.

"Carryin' the banner." Jackie let out a breathy laugh.

"Carryin' tha bannah." David climbed inside, leaving Jackie alone on the fire escape. She looked in the window to see the Jacobs' in a typical family setting. She turned away, heaving a great sigh, and made her way down to the city streets as silent as night.

She walked slowly, thinking over her day; so much had happened. She had met David and Les, and they had made her smile and laugh. Jackie had always been so careful to avoid showing too much emotion; they were unnecessary hindrances. She showed just enough to seem human, and to gain her boys' trust, but never any more. Even Spot's unemotional mask he used as a leader paled in comparison to Jackie's. She was a good leader, both feared and respected; she ruled with a fair, but firm hand, and her newsies understood that. But even after ten years in the street business, in less than five minutes, those two damned brothers had reduced all her hard work to rubble.

Before she knew it, Jackie had reached the lodging house, meeting up with Racetrack at the steps.

"'Ey, Race," she greeted in a tired voice, clapping a hand on his shoulder.

"Heya, Jackie." Racetrack sounded just as tired as she.

"How was ya day at da track?"

"Remember that hot tip I told ya about?" He asked, looking pained.

"Yeah."

"Nobody told tha horse," he stated bitterly, walking inside ahead of Jackie. She sighed, shaking her head.

"Ya just neva know when ta quit, do ya, Race," she muttered before stepping inside the door, basking in the warmth of the old building she considered to be the closest thing to a home she had ever had.

* * *

Pulitzer and his employees were in a late meeting, discussing ways to get more profits for The World. The room buzzed with debates. Pulitzer sat at the head of the long rectangular table with his hands at his lips, palms pressed together. He stayed silent for a few moments before standing and clearing his throat.

"Gentlemen, we need to sell more papers," he announced.

"Yes, we know that, Chief. We're trying to work out a way _how_," Seitz replied offhandedly. Pulitzer shook his head.

"There's an answer right before your eyes, but you're just not thinking this through," he told his employees. They all looked at him with interest.

"_A barber would know when he's cutting my hair. Trim a bit here, and then trim a bit there; just a modest adjustment can fatten the bottom line,"_ he sang, trying to hint at his master plan.

"What if we cut back personnel?" Bunsen piped from his place next to Pulitzer.

"How about a few salary trims?" Seitz suggested with a shrug.

"We could lower the price of the paper," Hannah chimed.

"Bankrupting me even faster!" Pulitzer sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He felt as though he were dealing with small children that needed to be held by the hand. "Let me try this again…" He stood, making his way behind each of his employees as he sang.

"_Shaving is tricky—the razor should float. Shave me too close and you might slit my throat. It's the simplest solutions that bolster the bottom line."_ Bunsen snapped his fingers, eyes widening with his idea.

"I've got it! If we charge the newsies sixty cents per hundred instead of fifty…" he trailed off, waiting for the other employees to catch on.

"…They'd have to sell ten more papers just to earn the same amount as always," Seitz finished, a thoughtfully concerned look on his face.

"My thoughts exactly," Pulitzer praised, clapping his hand on Bunsen's shoulder. "It's genius."

"It's going to be awfully rough on those children," Hannah commented, biting her lip in worry.

"Nonsense," Pulitzer reassured, waving her off. "They'll be learning a real life lesson in economics. I couldn't offer them a better education if they were my own!" He walked swiftly over to his wall of books before facing his staff proudly.

"_Give me a week and I'll train them to be like an army that's marching to war. Proud of themselves, and so grateful to me, they'll be begging to pay even more!"_ He walked over to two of his suit-wearing employees, placing an arm each of their shoulders. _"When there's dirt on our shoes, boys, for God's sake, relax! Why throw them out? All we need is some wax. Listen well to these barbershop lessons, for they'll see you through."_

"_When you're stuck in the muck you'll be fine. You'll erase any trace of decline,"_ Pulitzer's employees sang.

"_With a trim!"_

"_And a snip!"_

"_And a shine!"_

"_And the power of the press,"_ Pulitzer continued, _"yes, once again is mine! Just a few common cents, gents, that's the bottom line!"_

"_Every new outcome, it's income for you, thanks to the bottom line!"_ his employees finished. Pulitzer let out a laugh, patting himself on the back for what he thought was a genius and the perfect plan.

* * *

Jackie stood on the roof of the lodging house, a cigarette hanging from her lips. She looked out at the city below, leaning her elbows onto the edge. She was deep in thought, her mind dragging up memories that she had pushed away.

She and Spot had been newsies for the past ten years…

"Damn," she muttered around her cigarette, "I'm getting' old."

Jackie remembered how happy and carefree Spot used to be, much like little Les. He was the one good thing in his life, right next to her younger brother, Francis; but that was before his parents were killed in the fire. She thought of that night when Spot had shown up at her family's doorstep, clothes singed and soot covering every inch of his skin and tears streaming down his face. He was only six years old. After that night, Spot became colder, more distant to everyone; everyone, save Jackie, that is. If it was possible, they became even closer, clinging to their friendship like a lifeline.

Her mind jumped to the night she and Spot had been placed in the Brooklyn Orphanage, both only seven. She had been so scared and worried; she gripped her 'Western Jim' comic like her life depended on it.

"Don't worry," Spot had comforted her, holding her as she cried, smoothing her hair in a soothing rhythm. "Everythin'll be a'right. I'se 'll take care a' ya. I'll neva let you'se down."

"Sean, promise me we'll always be best friends," Jackie had demanded of him. He gave her the most serious face in return, one that had not returned to his face in ten years.

"I promise ya, Mary Anne," he vowed. That night, the two best friends ran away from the orphanage and landed themselves in an alley, huddled together in the cold. The next morning, Jackie woke to find themselves in a bed with a thin blanket covering the two of them. She looked over to see a teenage boy sitting in a chair at their bedside, cap over his face as he slept. He stirred, and then moved his cap up back on his head with a tired sigh. The teenage boy caught her gaze and popped his mouth in an amused smirk.

"Well, good mo'nin'," he greeted them. "It's nice ta have ya with tha livin'! Me name's Cheshire, tha King a' Brooklyn!" He had swept his arms out in a wide motion.

Later that morning, he gave Sean the nickname "Spot," and told Mary Anne to change her name. Cheshire had thought for a full five minutes before thinking up the name Jackie Kelly. It wasn't until a week later, after Jackie had been brought home bloodied and bruised, that the Brooklyn newsies all agreed that it was safer for her if the world thought she was a boy; so, Jackie became Jack, and after Cheshire found her staring at the 'Western Jim' comic for the millionth time, he had dubbed her "Cowboy."

That had been the beginning of Jackie's new life, and the start of an endlessly bleak and brutal existence. What she thought would only be temporary became permanent, and she wasn't sure if she was ever going to be able to break free and go to Santa Fe.

A sudden noise broke Jackie from her thoughts, and she turned around to find Crutchie hobbling toward her on his crutch, panting lightly. Not paying much mind to his presence, she turned back out to face the city.

"Heya, Jack!" Crutchie smiled brightly; he was a lot like Mush attitude-wise, carefree and happy-go-lucky. He was also one of the few newsies that were close to Jackie; Spot, Kid Blink, Racetrack and Mush were the others.

"'Ey, Crutch," she replied, sparing him a glance.

"Some a' da boys was wonderin' how ya were, so they told me ta come up and see ya," he explained. Jackie pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes as she turned to face him fully.

"Dey're a right bunch of idiots, dat lot. Sendin' a cripple ta walk up three flights a' stairs tad a roof? It's inhumane, I tells ya!" She looked and sounded serious, but Crutchie detected the underlying playfulness. He shrugged his shoulders and smiled sheepishly.

"Naww, I'm fine. Tha leg hasn't been hoitin' so bad lately." He knocked his knee with his crutch for emphasis. "Who knows, maybe one day I'll get betta. Anythin's possible in New York!" As he said this, Jackie's face darkened and Crutchie could practically see the wall building up in her eyes.

"Oh, yeah," she scoffed, "'cause New York's so great." She turned back out to face the city, anger and sadness clearly displayed on her face. "Dem streets down there. Dey sucked tha life right outta me whole fam'ly. Well, it ain' doin' dat ta me…" Jackie threw her finished cigarette down bitterly. Crutchie limped over next to her.

"But, everyone wants to come to New York!"

"You keep ya life in tha big city, kid. Gimme a big life in a small town…" Jackie held a far off look in her eyes, as if seeing a different world.

"_Dey say folks is dyin'a get heah, but me I'm dyin'a get away to a little town out West dat's spankin' new. Now, I ain' neva been dere, but I can see it cleah as day. If ya wan', I'll betcha you could see it, too."_ Jackie smirked at Crutchie, grabbing his hand and gently leading him away from the ledge.

"_Close your eyes, come with me, where it's clean an' green an' pretty, An' dey went an' made a city outta clay."_ Jackie gave a breathy laugh as Crutchie imagined everything she was saying with a huge smile on his face.

"_Well, tha minute dat ya get dere, folks'll walk right up and say,"_ she grabbed Crutchie's arms just above his elbows and he opened his eyes. _"'Welcome home, kid, welcome home to Santa Fe.'"_ Jackie stepped away from him, basking in an invisible sun that only existed in her mind.

"_Plantin' crops, splittin' rails, swappin' tales around tha fire, 'cept for Sunday when ya lie around all day."_ Jackie swung onto the ledge of the roof so that her hands were behind her head, she had one leg bent and the other hung down off the roof. The she sat up suddenly, a smile threatening to break through on her face.

"_Soon ya friends is more like fam'ly, an' dey'se beggin' you ta stay! Ain' dat neat? Livin' sweet in Santa Fe…"_ She looked over at Crutchie again, who was once again sheepish.

"'Eyy, no one worries 'bout no gimp leg in Santa Fe," she told him. "Ya just hop a Palomino, ya'd ride in style!" He grinned, staring at the ground, before looking up at Jackie through his eyelashes.

"Heh, pictah me, ridin' in style!" Jackie slapped a hand on his shoulder.

"'Ey, I bet in a few months a' clean air, ya could toss dat crutch fa' good!"

"_Santa Fe,"_ they sang together, _"you can bet! We won't let no screwa's beat us, we won't beg no one ta treat us fair and square! There's a life that's woith tha livin' and I'm gonna do my share!"_

"_Work the land, chase the sun!"_ Jackie sang before Crutchie joined in again. _"Swim tha whole Rio Grande just for fun!"_

"_Watch me stand! Watch me run…" _Crutchie had tears in his eyes as he imagined being able to run. He could hardly remember the last time he was able to walk normally. Jackie had a small, sad smile on her face as she tapped his chin up with her knuckle.

"_Don'cha know dat we'se a fam'ly? Would I let ya down? No way. Just hold on, kid, till dat train makes Santa Fe…"_ Jackie moved back to the ledge of the roof, resting her palms on it. She sighed heavily, and her breath came out in a long puff in the cool air.

"Wow, Jack," Cruthcie started, "Santa Fe sure sounds swell."

"Oh, yeah," Jackie muttered, "swell…" She looked around, and then back at Crutchie and clapped her hands together. "A'right, let's getchya back inside before ya catch a cold, okay?"

On their way inside, their faint arguments about who needed to worry about whose health faded into the night.

* * *

**A/N: DONE. WITH. THIS. CHAPTER. It took a lot longer than expected. I hope you enjoyed the small amount of back story for both Jackie AND Spot. **

**A'right, review, people! I'd appreciate it more than you know. Until next time, my lovelies.**


	5. Don't Worry, The World Will Know

**A/N: Okay, so as I've been writing this, the characters are really taking on a life of their own. I'll write a paragraph, and then look at it and think "Where the hell did this come from?" And it'll be something like how David is all attractive, and for me personally, I don't really think David Jacobs was that attractive. I love David Moscow's hair and eyes, but his face…sometimes, I think he's booootiful, and other times, just not really. It's the same thing with Christian Bale. Okay. I'm done rambling now. Read on.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies. Disney owns it. Disney also owns a fair amount of things I want.**

* * *

David rolled to his side, wiping his eyes. He could hear a light tapping on his window. He groaned and got out of the bed, being sure to not disturb Les. He walked over to the window and pulled back the curtain. He was greeted by the sight of Jackie, fully dressed in dark pants, a button up shirt with the top two buttons undone, and suspenders on her shoulders. Her neck was adorned with the old red bandanna and her hair was stuffed in her cap. Jackie smirked and quirked her head as she took in David's night gown. David felt the heat rise to his cheeks as he tried to open the window with his now clammy hands.

"H-hey, Jackie," he stuttered, face getting redder every moment. Jackie's smirk widened.

"Heya, Davey," she replied as she stepped over the window sill. "I got up a little early an' came right ovah…sorry, I woke ya…" she muttered.

"No, no, it's fine," David said, shaking his head. "I'm, uh, gonna go, uh, get dressed, so you can sit down, I mean, if you want." Shy and unsure David was back, making Jackie snicker, though she complied and sat in a chair to face the opposite direction of David as he dressed.

"So, anything new?" David asked awkwardly.

"Ah, not really," Jackie replied, sparing a glance over her shoulder. David had his pants on and was pulling his shirt over his shoulders, chest and abs bare. Jackie's conscious thought left her for a moment before she shook her head and focused on Les's sleeping form. "Here, I'll get tha little guy up," she offered.

David smirked after noticing Jackie's outright ogling; it made him feel as though he was someone special, as though not many people could say that Jackie Kelly had seen them shirtless and liked what she saw.

Jackie walked to Les's side, ignoring the smirk she saw on David's face. It bothered her that David was able to affect her thought process; she had seen nearly all of her Manhattan boys and even the Brooklyn boys shirtless and it had never bothered her too much—most of them were attractive, Jackie wasn't going to deny that—but, for some reason Jackie couldn't comprehend, David was different.

"Les," she whispered, shaking his small shoulder lightly. "Les, wake up kid." Les stirred a bit and scrunched his nose up and pouted, still sleeping. Jackie's breath caught in her throat as she had a déjà vu moment from when she woke up Spot the morning after his parents died. Jackie sucked in a sharp breath.

"Les, sweetie," she cooed softly, brushing his hair with her hand. "Les, hon, we gotta go carry da bannah." Les's eyes fluttered open and stared into Jackie's before blinking repeatedly.

"Jackie?" he asked groggily, rubbing his eye with the back of his hand as he sat up. Jackie gave him a soft, motherly smile.

"Well, good mo'nin'. It's nice ta have ya with tha livin'!" She greeted cheerily, just as Cheshire had all those years ago. Les giggled and yawned.

David buttoned his shirt, watching Jackie. She was so gentle with Les, and when she cooed at him and called him 'sweetie,' he was completely floored. By the time Jackie had begun to help Les dress himself, David had finished and walked to his pantry. He grabbed a small loaf of bread, and some cheese and carried them to the table, going back for water glasses.

"Breakfast, anyone?" he asked Les and Jackie. Les squirmed into his shirt and bounded for the table. Jackie just stood and leaned back against the wall behind her.

"Jackie, aren't you gonna eat?" David and Les quirked an eyebrow at her, Les's mouth stuffed to where he looked like a chipmunk. Jackie shrugged.

"Nah, I don' eat in tha mornin'," she replied.

"But…it's breakfast…" David looked utterly confused. "Do the newsies…not eat breakfast?"

"We have those nuns in tha mornin' that stop by. Me boys usually grab a piece a' bread or a cup a' coffee…or what _was_ coffee." Jackie shrugged again.

"But what about you? Don't you eat with the rest of the newsies?" David pressed.

"Jeez, Davey, ya sure do ask a lot a' questions," Jackie muttered, rubbing the back of her neck with her hand. "I jus' don'. I figya I don' need ta eat breakfast as long as I have a decent sellin' day. I try an' catch lunch at Tibby's, an' I'll usually get dinna there, too." Realization dawned on David's face.

"Yesterday, you didn't eat lunch! We spent the whole afternoon at Medda's!" He was absolutely horrified that he and Les had kept Jackie from eating. She shook her head, waving her hand in dismissal.

"Nah, it's not dat big a deal, Dave," she reassured him. "I've gone days without eatin' before, an' Hattan's been kinder than where I was…not by much, though." The knowledge of Jackie being used to going days without food left an odd churning in his stomach; he felt guilty for knowing he could expect some type of food on his table every day when Jackie had to work for everything she had.

"Really, Davey, don' worry about it. Hurry up an' eat ya food, we gotta get goin' soon." She turned away sharply and went to wait out on the fire escape. After a few moments, David and Les joined her and they went on their way to the Distribution Center.

They were met by the sight of gathered newsies, obviously distressed. Kid Blink paced back and forth vigorously. Skittery smoked a cigarette, his shaking hand running through his hair. Blink looked up to find Jackie swaggering over with David and Les.

"They jacked up the price!" He burst out. "Ya hear that, Jack? Ten cents a hundred! Ya know, it's bad enough that we gotta eat what we don't sell, now they jack up the price! Can you believe that?" Blink was obviously outraged, while Jackie looked confused and concerned.

"This'll bust me," Skittery complained, "I'm barely makin' a livin' right now."

"I'll be back sleepin' on tha streets," Boots stated plainly. Jackie's heart clenched; she didn't know exactly what was going on, but she was sure as hell going to do something about whatever was bothering her boys.

"It don' make no sense," Mush chimed in. He was oddly calm amongst the raging newsies. His facial expression was also one of concern and confusion. "With all the money Pulitzer's makin', why would he gouge us?"

"Because he's a tightwad, dat's why!" Racetrack answered angrily in his thick Brooklyn accent.

"Pipe down, pipe down!" Jackie yelled as the crowd of newsies began to bicker amongst themselves. Jackie pushed through to Weasel's counter.

"So, why tha jack up, Weasel?" she asked him icily. His poor excuse of a face smiled sickeningly.

"Why not? It's a nice day. Why don'cha ask Mistah Pulitzah?" Jackie turned away with a sneer on her face. She walked over to Kid Blink, who looked down at her, tears pooling in his one good eye. She placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"They can't do this to me, Jackie," he whispered sadly.

"Dey can do whateva dey want. It's deir stinkin' papah," Race growled.

"It ain' fair," Boots mused. "We got no rights at all."

"Come on, it's a rigged deck. Dey got all da marbles." Jackie threw Race a warning glare. Mush tugged on Jackie's wrist lightly.

"Jack, we got no choice, so why don' we get our lousy papes while they still got some, huh?" Jackie's glare deepened and she felt pressured to do something drastic in order to protect her newsies.

"No!" she shouted. "Nobody's goin' anywhere! Dey can' get away with this!" The newsies pressed in around Jackie, but Les was quick to act. He pushed them all back and away from her.

"Give Jack some room! Let Cowboy think!" Les called out.

There was a pregnant pause as Kid Blink handed Jackie his half used cigarette; she accepted it gratefully, taking long drags on it. Racetrack fidgeted in his spot beside Jackie.

"Jack, ya done thinkin' yet?" Racetrack asked impatiently.

"Hey, hey, hey! World employees only on this side of the gate!" Weasel's sniveling voice called out behind them. Jackie threw a cold glare his way, effectively shutting him up. She turned back to her newsies.

"Well, listen: one thing's for sure, if_ we_ don' sell papes, den _nobody_ sells papes. Nobody comes through those gates until dey put tha price back ta where it was." Until then, David had stayed silent; he didn't know what he was supposed to say about the rise in price, but Jackie's words brought a sudden idea to his head.

"You mean like a strike?" David thought out loud. A fire lit in Jackie's eyes.

"Yeah, like a strike!"

"Are you outta ya mind?" Racetrack pushed her shoulder back roughly with the hand that wasn't currently holding his cigar.

"It's a good idea!" She shouted back, offended. David grabbed her hand and dragged her to the side.

"Jackie, I was only joking. We can't go on strike, we don't have a union." Jackie pulled her hand out of his grasp.

"But, if we go on strike, den we are a union, right?" Jackie reasoned. David sighed, exasperated.

"No, we're just a bunch of angry kids with no money. Maybe if we got every newsies in New York, but…" David shrugged off the idea, but Jackie just got more excited.

"Yeah, well, we'll organize! Crutchie! You take up for collection. We'll get all the newsies of New York together!" She started to walk away before David grabbed her by the shoulders, forcing her to look at him.

"Jackie, this isn't a joke. You saw what happened to those trolley workers." As he said this, a dark look passed over her face. Her eyes tightened significantly.

"Yeah, well, that's anotha good idea. Any newsie don' join with us, den we bust deir heads like tha trolley workers," she announced darkly. As she walked, David was biting her heels.

"Stop and think about this, Jackie! You can't just rush everybody into this!" Jackie stopped suddenly, and the newsies gathered behind her.

"A'right," she told David, "lemme think about it." She paused for a moment before turning towards the newsies. "Listen. Dave's right. Pulitza and Hoist an' all dem otha rich fells, I mean, dey own this city, so do they really think a bunch a' street kids like us can make any difference?" There was only silence from the newsies as she stared them all down, speaking to each of them, like a true leader. "Tha choice's gotta be yours. Are we jus' gonna take what dey give us, or are we gonna strike?"

There was another hesitant silence among the newsies before Les stepped forward with his wooden sword.

"STRIKE!" the young boy shouted out. David, horrified, grabbed Les and yanked him back, clamping his hand down over his mouth. The newsies started murmuring their agreements.

"Keep talkin', Jack. Tell us what to do!" Boots cheered. Jackie turned to David.

"Well, you're smart, Davey. You tell us what ta do." David gave her a hard look before sighing in defeat.

"Pulitzer and Hearst have to respect our rights." Jackie nodded, and turned out towards the newsies.

"'Ey, listen! Pulitza an' Hoist have ta respect tha rights of tha workin' boys a' New York…an' meself!" There was a dull roar of sound from the newsies and a few chuckles. Jackie leaned in toward David again. "Well, dat woiked pretty good, so what else ya got?"

"Tell them that they can't treat us like we don't exist." Jackie nodded again and climbed onto the statue of Horace Greeley and looked down on all her boys.

"Pulitza an' Hoist, they think we're nothin'. Are we nothin'?" she shouted.

"No!" the newsies yelled back, throwing their fists in the air.

"_Pulitza an' Hoist, dey think dey got us, do dey got us?"_

"No!" the newsies shouted again, getting more and more excited.

"_Even though we ain' got hats or badges, we're a union jus' by sayin' so, an' tha world will know!"_ Jackie sang, pointing at The World Building. "What's it gonna take ta stop the wagons? Are we ready?" She shouted.

"Yeah!" her boys shouted. David still looked extremely skeptical of the whole idea of the strike.

"_What's it gonna take ta stop tha scabba's? Can we do it?"_

"Yeah!"

"_We'll do what we gotta do until we break tha will of mighty Bill and Joe!"_

"_And The World will know!" _the newsies sang as Jackie jumped down to join them. _"And The Journal, too!"_

"_Mistah Hearst and Pulitza have we got news for you!"_ Jackie and Mush sang together before the newsies took over once more.

"_See, The World don't know, but they gonna pay!"_

"_Instead of hawkin' headlines we'll be makin' 'em today,"_ Jackie and Racetrack called out.

"_And our ranks will grow!"_ the newsies called out.

"_And we'll kick their rear!"_ Crutchie chimed.

"_And The World will know that we been here!"_

"_When tha circulation bell starts ringin', will we hear it?"_ Jackie asked.

"No!"

"_What if tha Delancey's come out swingin', will we hear it?"_

"No!" The newsies danced across the Square as they sang.

"_When you got a hundred voices singing, who can hear a lousy whistle blow? And the World will know that this ain't no game, that we got a ton of rotten fruit and perfect aim!"_ Kid Blink and Racetrack ran towards the gate of the Distribution Center as it closed, climbing up and singing at the World employees.

"_So they gave their word, but it ain't worth beans! Now they're gonna see what 'stop the presses' really means. And the day has come, and the time is now. And we've got no choice but to see it through!"_

"_And we've found our voice! And it will ring true!" _Boots piped in his solo.

"_And the world will…"_

"_Pulitza may own tha World but he don' own us!"_ Jackie sang, and the newsies echoed her words. _"Pulitza may crack tha whip but he won' whip us!"_

"_And the World will know we been keepin' score. Either they gives us our rights or we gives them a war! We been down too long, and we paid our dues!"_

"_And the things we do today will be tomorrow's news!"_ Crutchie's blatant Manhattan accent rang out.

"_And the old will fall, and the young stand tall, and the time is now, and the winds will blow and our ranks will grow, and grow, and grow, and so The World will feel the fire and finally know!" _ There was a dramatic pause before the newsies gathered once more in the Square and began to dance again, David included, as Jackie climbed the statue once more.

"_Pulitza may own tha world but he don' own us! Pulitza make crack the whip but he won' whip us!" _ She cried out loudly.

"_So the World says no! Well the kids do, too. Try to walk all over us, we'll stomp all over you!"_

"_Can they kick us out?"_ Kid Blink sang. _"Take a lay-off vote?"_

_ "Will we let 'em stuff this crock of garbage down our throat? NO!" _the newsies sang. _"And the day they win, is the day we lose. And this ain't for fun, and it ain't for show, and we'll fight 'em toe to toe to toe, and Joe your World will feel the fire and finally, finally know!"_

* * *

**A/N: So, I've been having a Harry Potter marathon as I've been writing this, and I feel bad for not giving this story the full attention it deserves, BUT HARRY POTTER IS JUST TOO PERFECT AND I CAN'T RESIST PAYING ATTENTION TO IT.**

**Please review! I bid you adieu, my lovelies.**


	6. Meet the Sun

**A/N: **_**Yeeeeeeeeeee~ **_**I'm loving this way too much, guys. I JUST HAVE SO MUCH FUN AND IT'S NEWSIES AND heeee! XD**

**Gah. I'm running on 2 hours of sleep and several pots of coffee in 3 days. Ignore me. NO WAIT DON'T I LIKE IT WHEN YOU READ MY STORYYYYYYYY. Mmk. Read on.**

**Disclaimer: This incredibly sleepy and unnaturally hyper author does not own Newsies, although she wishes she did. She also wishes that the newsies themselves were real so she could have meaningful conversations with them.**

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The newsies crowded the steps of the World Building, where they knew Pulitzer's office was. They yelled and hollered their excitement. Jackie and David were at the top of the steps in front of all the newsies when Jackie called them to order.

"A'right, so we gotta get word out ta all tha newsies a' New York!" she shouted. "I need some a' those…ah…whaddaya call 'em?" She gestured with her hands, moving them forward. When none of her newsies answered, she turned to David. He watched her repeat the gesture several times before answering unsurely.

"Uh…ambassadors?" Jackie clapped her hands together and pointed at David quickly.

"Yeah, that!" Jackie turned back to face the newsies. "Okay, ya gotta be am-bastards-" snickers "-an' go tell tha otha boroughs dat we'se on strike."

"Say, Jack, I'll take Harlem," Kid Blink shouted before running off.

"Yeah, I got Midtown," Racetrack called out.

"I got tha Battery, Jack," Mush yelled, grinning as he went off.

"Hey, I'll take tha Bronx," Crutchie piped, and then began his limping trek across the city.

Jackie nodded to each of them as they left, grateful for their enthusiasm. She looked out at the rest of the newsies before calling on a few of them.

"A'right, Bumlets, Specs an' Skittery, you take Queens," she told them, pointing at each of them. They all nodded and took off. "Pie Eater! Snoddy! East Side…Snipeshooter, you go with 'em." The three of them ran off. "So what about Brooklyn?" Jackie asked, and she was greeted by another silence. The newsies shifted and looked down at their shoes. "Come on, Spot Conlon's territory." Still silence. "Whassa matta? Ya scared a' Brooklyn?"

"Hey, we ain't scared a' Brooklyn!" Boots shouted suddenly. Jackie quirked an eyebrow at him and he went sheepish once more. "Spot Conlon makes us a little noivous…" he added. Jackie rolled her eyes.

"Well, he don' make me 'noivous'," she told him.

"Well, yeah," he replied, shrugging. "You'se is practically tha Queen a' Brooklyn, bein' what it is with tha hist'ry between you an' Spot…"

The crowd chorused with low 'Oooo's. Instead of glaring and giving Boots a good soaking like many thought she would, Jackie just smirked and chuckled. David, at this point, was completely lost, but decided he was going to keep his questions for later. Spot was Jackie's best friend, and was almost something more—Jackie wasn't about to deny that—but her boys still liked to goad her on about, but only the bold ones (aka Racetrack, Kid Blink and Mush).

"So," Jackie drawled, "you an' me, Boots. We'll go ta Brooklyn." Boots swallowed audibly and Jackie's smirk widened. She clapped David on the shoulder and continued. "An' Dave here can keep us company." David smiled at her.

"Sure," he replied, "just as soon as you deliver our demands to Pulitzer." Jackie stopped suddenly, and swallowed thickly. She looked unsure and even a bit nervous.

"Me? To Pulitza?" she asked him, pointing at herself and then at the World Building doors.

"Well, you're the leader…Cowboy." David was clearly amused, but still serious, much to her chagrin.

Jackie swallowed again, staring at the intimidating building. Then she rolled her shoulders back, jutted her jaw and pursed her lips. She gave the large doors a hard scowl and reached for Les's hand.

"Well, maybe tha kid'll soften him up," she muttered, pulling Les along with her as she entered the World Building. The newsies all cheered and Boots led them in chanting "Strike! Strike! Strike!" for about thirty seconds before they all went in different directions.

David was grateful that he was left alone in front of the World Building because it gave him the chance to think. His mind wandered to Jackie, and how she had, by some unknown means, weaseled her way into his life in just a matter of hours. One day was all it took, just one day out his own sixteen years of living, and he couldn't even imagine living in New York without her.

David thought about how she ran around being a boy; it must have been really hard for her to keep such a big thing like gender a secret. He remembered the relieved feeling he'd had when he discovered she was a girl, and then that new feeling, where he felt like someone had take a blender to his insides whenever he looked at her.

Sure, it was easy to joke around with her and act like she got on his nerves, but there was a nagging in the back of his head saying he was falling for her, hard and fast. The worst part? David knew it was true; he didn't want to have these feelings for a hard-headed, cocky, irritating, forceful, hot-tempered girl who spit in her hand before shaking hands with people, but he did, and they were getting stronger the more time he spent with her.

David had read about love in books and he saw it whenever he looked at his parents, but feeling it happen to him was a whole different ballgame. Every time Jackie looked at him, his chest tightened and his stomach did a complete dance routine. When she ogled him that morning, he had been surprised and pleased, to say the least. It made him wonder if she felt the same way about him…

While David had been thinking, a man walked up to him. The stranger had been watching every move the newsies had made that morning. He wore dark brown suit pants, a white long sleeve button-down and a matching brown vest. Upon his collar, he wore a brightly colored bowtie. He carried a pen and pad of paper in his hand as he tapped David on the shoulder, tearing him from his thoughts.

"Hey, what is this strike? What's going on?" he asked David.

"We're bringing our demands to Pulitzer," David told him matter-of-factly.

"What demands?" David was starting to think that this guy definitely didn't know the newsies and he wasn't sure if he should trust him; for all he knew, this stranger could have been a policeman looking for an excuse to take Jackie to the refuge. He could only imagine the look on Jackie's face if she found out he'd been telling an undercover policeman all about the strike.

"The newsies demands. We're on strike," David stated carefully. The man smiled.

"I'm with the New York Sun. Bryan Denton," he said, shaking David's hand, who let out a breath of relief. "You seem like the kid in charge. What's your name?"

"David." David didn't even bother correcting him to say he wasn't really 'the kid in charge.' Leading was Jackie's thing, and she'd be there to correct him herself once she was finished with Pulitzer. Denton laughed once, and a weird look that said 'Are you serious?' crossed his face.

"David…David as in David and Goliath?" David laughed as well and just shrugged. Denton continued. "You really think Old Man Pulitzer's going to listen to your demands?"

"He has to," David shrugged, staring at the tall building. At that moment, Jackie and Les were thrown out the door. David caught Les, but Jackie tumbled to the ground. She jumped to her feet angrily and ran to the door as it was closing.

"Well, so's your old lady!" she shouted. "You tell Pulitza he needs an appointment with me!" The door slammed shut just as she reached it. Jackie pounded her fists against the door once before pushing herself off of it and turning towards David and Les. She eyed the stranger suspiciously.

"Oh, uh, this is Bryan Denton. He's with the Sun," David told her quickly.

"The papah?" she asked incredulously.

"No, the thing in the sky," David said sarcastically. As soon as the words came out of his mouth, he regretted them, and he braced himself for a punch from Jackie, squeezing his eyes shut and leaning back.

Nothing happened.

David opened his eyes to see Jackie pinching the bridge of her nose, eyes shut and brows furrowed.

"Ya know, Davey," she started, voice calm but still dangerous, "now is _not_ tha time ta make me angry." David silently agreed. Jackie dropped her hand, surprised at herself for not giving David a good soaking. She looked at Denton. "So what has Davey told ya already?"

"Just that the newsies are on strike," Denton shrugged. "Can I ask for your name?"

"Jack Kelly," she answered shortly, looking out across the Square. Denton smiled again.

"Well, Jack isn't really a name suited for a young lady such as yourself, is it?" Jackie's head snapped up to meet Denton's grinning face, her own face showing rage and disbelief.

"How the hell do you know about that?" she whispered angrily. Denton raised both of his hands in surrender, his shoulders shaking lightly from laughter.

"Easy, easy! I'm just an observant person," he told her. "Look, I won't tell anyone about it, alright?" Jackie fidgeted for a moment before nodding tersely once. "What's your position in this strike?" Denton asked her. Before Jackie could say another word, though, David opened his big mouth.

"Jackie runs the Manhattan newsboy crew. She's the strike leader," he told Denton, who's eyebrows shot up. There was a silence before Denton looked at Jackie.

"Why don't we discuss the strike over lunch. I'll pay. Know a good place?" Jackie looked as though she was about to reject the offer, when David pulled her aside a few feet.

"Just give us a minute," he told Denton, and then turned back to Jackie. "Look, whether this guy actually writes a story or not, you're going to eat lunch with him," he whispered firmly.

"An' why in hell would I do sumthin' like dat?" she growled in a low voice.

"Because you're not selling papers anymore, which means you don't have much money, and I am _not_ going to let you starve because of it." Even though his gesture touched her, Jackie was still angry with him.

"An' why exactly would you care, Davey?" she spat at him.

"I-I just…I don't want anything bad to happen to you, especially when I know it's something I can prevent…it's stupid, I know, but…I just can't let you-" Jackie cut off David's whispered rant with a sigh. The desperation in his tone had surprised both of them, and Jackie decided it would be best to humor him.

"I'm a newsie, Davey," she whispered, all malice gone from her voice; her eyes were fixed on something over his shoulder, and she looked and sounded tired. "If ya don' want nothin' bad happenin' ta me, ya might as well stop me from bein' what I am." When she caught David's stare, he noticed just how old her eyes seemed in that moment, like she had lived a thousand years, and was about to endure a thousand more. She turned away from David to face Denton.

"Tibby's is as good as anywhere," Jackie finally replied with a shrug. Denton nodded.

"Alright. Lead the way."

* * *

David, Les, Denton and Jackie were sitting at a table at Tibby's, food in front of them when Denton spoke up again.

"So, how did speaking with Mister Pulitzer go?" he asked before taking another mouthful of soup.

"Well, me and Les got up dere, and dis snooty mug says ta me, 'Ya can' see Mistah Pulitza, no one sees Mistah Pulitza.' Real, hoity-toity, ya know da type?" Jackie explained, disdain clearly lacing her voice.

"Real hoity-toity," Les repeated, only barely glancing up from his meal. Denton grinned at the young boy, and then nodded at Jackie, silently telling her to continue.

"So dat's when I says ta him, 'Listen, I ain' in tha habit a' transactin' no business with office boys.'" At this, David's expression turned surprised. He had figured Jackie was smart enough, if she was a leader of an entire borough, but he'd thought that all of her insults would revolve around threats and fists, not clever words…even if her grammar was horrendous.

"That's when he threw us out," Les added with finality. David barked out a laugh, which earned him a scathing glare from Jackie. He grinned at her ruefully in response.

"Doesn't he scare you?" Denton asked Jackie, reverting her attention back to him. "You're going up against the most powerful man in New York City. Plus, from what I've seen, you're the only female newsie I've seen around the whole city. You're going to have to fight pretty hard in order to get him to budge." He looked genuinely concerned for her, and that was something Jackie didn't want to see; she wanted faith, not pity.

"Oh, yeah, look at me," she bit out sarcastically, shaking the front of her shirt dramatically. "I'm tremblin'!" Then her face turned serious. "I may be one goil, but I'm still da leadah a' da 'Hattan newsies, an' I'm capable a' leadin' me boys without a doubt. Shoa, it was a hard rise ta powa, but dat's normal; I still have ta prove everyday dat I'm fit ta lead, not jus' ta me own boys, but ta da udda boroughs, too. Dey're all dyin' ta see tha day when dey can take me down. Dat's exactly why I gotta fight so hard; I gotta prove meself, 'cause in dis city, nothin' comes fah free. Ya gotta be willin' ta fight fah what ya have, an' ta fight fah what ya need."

"But have you thought about how dangerous this could be? I know this strike is about getting Pulitzer to see that he's wrong, but—" Denton never got to finish his thought as Jackie interrupted him with a stern glare on her face.

"Dis strike is about me boys neva gettin' treated da way dey should a day in deir lives, an' if it takes me slittin' someone's throat for 'em, I'll do it. It's called bein' a leadah an'a friend. Ya do what ya gotta do when yer a street rat. So no, Denton, I ain' afraid of a guy like Pulitza. It will give me great pleasuh to see ta da end a' da Woild."

Jackie's thick Brooklyn accent had returned, which gave David the idea that it only showed up whenever Jackie got really passionate about something. He could see the fire in her eyes when she talked about how the newsies were never treated right, and in that moment, he knew that there was nothing Jackie wouldn't do to protect her boys. In that moment, he was never more scared of Jackie; he was also never more attracted to her. Denton nodded as he took in her words. Jackie leaned back in her chair slowly, folding her hands in front of her on the table and clicked her tongue once.

"'Sides," she drawled, "I've survived woise things than Pulitza in my time."

There was a silence as Denton copied Jackie's early motion of leaning back in his seat. His eyebrows were raised, clearly impressed with Jackie's confidence and bravery; David was impressed, too. Les was still too stuck in his food to notice the exchange, though.

"Alright," Denton said finally, "Keep me informed. I want to know everything that's going on." He stood, putting on his jacket as the waiter walked over. He handed David a slip of paper with his office address on it.

"Are we really an important story?" David asked through his food.

"Well, what's important?" he countered, paying the waiter. "Last year, I covered the war in Cuba. Charged up San Juan Hill with Colonel Teddy Roosevelt. That was an important story. So, is the newsie strike important? That all depends on you." David grinned while Jackie smirked.

"So, Denton…me name's really gonna be in tha papahs?" Jackie asked. Denton nodded at her.

"Any objections?" Jackie responded with a full blown grin that lit up her face. David found himself grinning wider as he thought of just how happy Jackie looked in that one moment.

"Not as long as ya get it right!" Jackie laughed. "It's Kelly, Jackie Kelly. Pulitza might as well know now dat he's not jus' messin' with anudda newsboy…he's messin' with da leada a' Hattan, da only goil newsie a' New York!" Denton laughed with her, turning to leave.

"Oh, and Denton?" she called after him, and he stopped at the door to face her. "No pictah's," she told him seriously. Denton smiled.

"Sure, Jackie." As he walked out the door and let it swing shut behind him, the little bell on the frame jingled. Jackie took a deep breath through her nose and let it out slowly. She lolled her head around lazily to face David, a smirk present on her lips.

"Ya ready fah Brooklyn, Davey?"

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**A/N: OKAY SO I'M REALLY SORRY FOR SUCH A SHORT CHAPTER BUT I REALLY NEED TO SLEEP, LIKE SERIOUSLY, THIS ISN'T OKAY.**

**I'll make it up to you by having the next chapter be super long, okay? Please review! Thanks, guys! Goodnight, my lovelies!**


	7. Spot Conlon, Get Ready to Seize the Day

**A/N: After some much needed sleep, I have returned! Huzzah! In this chapter, you'll all be introduced to my personal favorite newsie. And then you get to see violent Jackie. *_ehehehe*_**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything, so don't sue me or nothin'.**

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After the trio had finished their lunch at Tibby's, David and Jackie took Les back to the Lodging House, much to Les's displeasure. The little guy had been looking forward to meeting the boy with a dog's name. After a few minutes of pouting, Les finally relented and ran off to play with Tumbler. Boots finally returned to the Lodging house in the early afternoon, and then he, David and Jackie were off to Brooklyn. For the first five minutes of their trek, the three of them had been quiet.

"I've never been to Brooklyn," David thought out loud. "Have you?" he asked the other two as they reached the Brooklyn Bridge.

"Ha! Have ya been ta Brooklyn, he says…Have I been ta Brooklyn? Ah, don' make me laugh, Davey." Jackie crowed.

"I spent a month there one night," Boots added, albeit not humorously. Although David looked confused, Jackie knew exactly what he had meant, and her attitude sobered quickly.

Boots was only eleven years old, but he wasn't a new face in Manhattan. He started selling papers when he was seven, the same age Jackie had been. Mush and Kid Blink had found him curled up in a ball in an alleyway, looking like he'd had a run in with grater. When he woke up, he was in a bunk at the Manhattan Lodging House, and Jackie was nursing his wounds. He had cried and cried and cried, blubbering about how he had gotten lost in Brooklyn and had been beaten up by a group of older boys. He said it had felt like he'd been there a whole month before he was able to find the bridge and get back to Manhattan.

Before David could ask how that was even possible, Jackie silenced him with a knowing look. She nudged Boots' shoulder and nodded at the railing; Boots smiled and the two more experienced newsies leaned over the side of middle of the bridge and screamed at the top of their lungs. The sound of their voices carried over for a full twenty seconds before dying and fading with the wind. Boots laughed and Jackie chuckled along, patting they younger boy on the shoulder. David looked as if he wasn't sure if he was going to laugh along or reprimand their stupidity; he chose to ignore it altogether and move on.

"So, is this Spot Conlon really dangerous?" Ever since hearing his name that morning and seeing the reaction of the newsies, David had been slightly anxious about meeting him.

"Not around Jackie," Boots muttered lowly. Jackie threw him a hard glare.

"Ya know, Boots," she started slowly, "you'se best be keepin' ya comments to yasself." She sounded almost nonchalant, but the two boys could recognize the hidden threat in her tone. She turned to David to answer his question. "Yes, Spot can be dangerous, Davey, so stay on his good side, a'right? Don' say nothin' stupid…in fact, don' say nothin' at all 'till I give a cleah signal for you'se ta talk. Dat way, we'll know fah shoa he don' see you'se as a threat."

"Why would Spot Conlon see me as a threat?" David had understood everything Jackie had said up until that comment. Jackie shrugged.

"He could see you as a liability, a weakling dat could get us all killed or sumthin'. An' he might not like dat you've been hangin' around me." David scowled at that, and he puffed out his chest slightly, but it went unnoticed by Jackie and Boots.

"And why wouldn't he like that?" he demanded.

"Spot an' I…we's close," she responded, shrugging once more. "He's like fam'ly. An' Spot Conlon is very protective of 'is fam'ly."

A silence fell over the three as they finished crossing the bridge. Jackie led them down the docks, where a bunch of boys David assumed were the Brooklyn newsies were lounging around and swimming in the water below. A tall boy climbed out of the river and stopped in front of Jackie; he stood about a foot taller than Jackie's 5'3" frame.

"Goin' somewhere, Kelly?" the boy, who Jackie recognized as Dime, spat at her.

"Shut it, Dime," she told him before pushing past him; the two boys behind her followed suit. Jackie's stride stopped only when she faced a large tower of crates.

"Well, if it ain' Jack-be-nimble, Jack-be-quick," a voice drawled from atop the crates.

On top the wooden boxes was a boy, around the same age as Jackie. He wore a checkered button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up past his elbows and dark brown pants, held up by his own signature red suspenders. In his hand, he gripped a black cane with an ornate gold handle, and around his neck was a shoelace necklace with a key hanging off of it. His face looked as though it was set in a permanent scowl as he looked down at the three Manhattan newsies.

"I see you moved up in tha woild, Spot. Gotta riva view an' everythin'," Jackie greeted, her face set in an uninterested expression.

Spot Conlon swiftly jumped down from his throne, landing deftly in front of Jackie. She smirked, and after a brief second, so did he. The two shared a spit-shake, to which David visibly cringed. The smirk on Spots face broke out into a broad grin as he pulled Jackie in for a tight hug. A small voice in the back of David's head told him that there was definitely some truth to what Boots had said that morning…Spot and Jackie had a history.

"It's good ta see ya, Jackie," Spot stated happily. Jackie squeezed him back, also happy to see her best friend. Spot finally released Jackie, but kept an arm slung over her shoulder, and she kept an arm around his waist. "You should come 'round more often, ya know dat?"

"Yeah, well, I got my own bozos ta look afta," Jackie told him with a grin. Spot chuckled as he turned to Boots.

"Heya, Boots. How's it rollin'?" he greeted the boy. Boots held out his hand, revealing a few shiny new marbles.

"I got a couple real good shooters for ya, Spot." Spot inspected the marbles, nodding his head.

"Ya shoa do, kid. Thanks." Spot had always had a soft spot for the young boy who got beat up on his turf. When he found out that it was three of his own newsies that had done it, Spot was furious. Jackie had been there when he had dealt with them…it wasn't pretty. For a while, it looked like one of the guys wasn't going to make it, but he pulled through in the end. Last either of them heard, the boys were carrying the banner in Midtown. Spot took the marbles and moved his arm from Jackie's shoulders, much to David's relief, and took out a sling shot from his pocket.

"So, Jackie," he said, taking aim at a few bottles on a ledge a good 30 feet away. "I been hearin' things from little boids. Things from Harlem—" _shot _"—Queens—" _shot_ "—all over—" _shot_. "Dey been choipin' in my ear: Jackie's newsies is playin' like dey goin' on strike," he finished, quirking his eyebrow at Jackie.

"Yeah, well, we are," she told him, crossing her arms in front of her.

"And we're not playing," David piped. "We are going on strike." Immediately after he spoke, David shied away. Both Jackie and Spot were glaring at him; Jackie, because he was stupid and didn't listen to her earlier warning, Spot because no one dared speak to the King of Brooklyn like that.

"Oh, yeah? Yeah?" he asked David, getting up in his face before backing off slightly. "What is this Jackie? Some kinda walkin' mouf?" Jackie recognized his disgusted tone immediately, and jumped in, grabbing David's shoulders and pulling him behind her roughly.

"Yeah, it's a mouf. A mouf with a brain, an' if you got half a' one, you'll listen ta what he's gotta say," Jackie told Spot, who chewed on the inside of his cheek before nodding once at Jackie. He leaned back to half-sit on a crate behind him and looked at David expectantly. When David didn't speak, Jackie shoved his shoulder, pushing him forward.

"Well, we started the strike, but we can't do it alone. So, we're talking to newsies all around the city," David started, still a bit unsure of himself.

"Yeah, so dey told me. But what'd dey tell you?" Spot asked.

"They're waiting to see what Spot Conlon is doing, that you're the key. That Spot Conlon is the most respected and famous newsie in all of New York, and probably everywhere else." David was becoming more and more confident in what he was saying, going down the path of flattery. "And if Spot Conlon joins the strike, then they'll join, and we'll be unstoppable. So, you gotta join, I mean…ya gotta!"

There was a pause; David and Boots were practically sweating, and Jackie had her arms crossed, staring straight at Spot. Spot furrowed his brow and pouted his lips as he thought.

"You're right, Jackie," he said slowly, nodding slightly, "brains. But I got brain's too, an' more dan jus' half a' one." He stood and took a few steps toward the docks, staring at Jackie all the while. "How do I know your punks won' run tha first time some goon comes at 'em with a club?"

"Careful, Spottie Boy, ya callin' me boys cowards…dat ain' gonna go ovah with me so well if ya do it again…" Jackie warned darkly. There was a long and uncomfortable pause as the two borough leaders glared at each other, unflinching. Spot was the first to break the silence.

"Ya forget ya speakin' ta da guy who taught ya how ta fight, Kelly," he uttered, his voice venomous.

"Ya don' scare me, Spot. Ya nevah have, an' ya nevah will. Ya may be da best damn fighta in da city, but I got one thing on ya: ya ain' nevah gonna hoit ya bes' friend." Jackie's dark brown eyes were almost as black as coal as she said this; the three boys could see the spark in them, a fire that was never ending. Spot finally relented with a hard sigh.

"Den tell me dis, Jackie…how am I supposed ta know dey got what it takes ta win?"

"Because I'm tellin' ya, Spot," she stated seriously, voice full of confidence and pride. Spot's face, previously set in a hard glare, softened significantly. He looked down and away from Jackie, as if he didn't want to say what he was about to tell her.

"Dat ain' good enough, Jackie. Ya gotta show me." He looked back at her when he heard her sigh in defeat. She had dropped her head, nodding it slightly. Then she tilted her head up at a slight angle to look at her best friend through her lashes, smirking.

"Yeah, I figya'd as much. See ya 'round, Spottie." Jackie turned to leave, but Spot grabbed her hand gently.

"Jackie…"

"'Eyy, Spottie, I know you'se needs a betta reason. Don' worry 'bout it," she told him, grinning up at his regretful expression. Then her face turned serious. "But we'll show ya, Spot. We'll show ya jus' how serious we'se is." Spot smiled gently and pulled her into another hug.

"I know you'se will," he whispered. "I jus' gotta protect me boys." Jackie pulled away and nodded at him once. She motioned for Boots and David to follow her, and the three of them made their way down the docks.

"Oh, and Jackie?" Spot called after her. She stopped walking and looked back over her shoulder. "My offa still stands," he announced, making Jackie smirk.

"So does my answa, Conlon. You desoive betta." She started down the docks once more, but turned around to walk backwards, a mad grin on her face. "'Sides, when has Brooklyn eva been able to handle tha likes a' me?"

Spot roared with laughter as he turned to climb back onto his throne and the three 'Hattaners walked back to their own borough with little conversation.

* * *

Upon their arrival back at the Square, Boots, David and Jackie were met by a few other newsies. Racetrack, Mush and Skittery were all smoking and leaning against the Horace Greeley Statue. Race did a double take as he caught sight of Jackie striding toward them.

"Jack!" he shouted, grabbing her attention. She sauntered up to him, taking out her own cigarette. "Jackie," he continued quietly once they were out of hearing range of prying ears. Jackie waved her hand at him.

"Nah, don' worry 'bout it, Race. I figya it'll jus' be woise if coiten people find out I'm a goil later radda den soona…might as well let the secret out now." Race and Mush exchanged looks as Jackie lit her cigarette. "What?" Jackie asked in a mildly annoyed tone. Race shook his head, pushing his opinion aside.

"Nothin', it don' matta," he told her. "So, where's Spot, huh?"

"He was concoined 'bout us bein' serious. Ya imagine dat?" Jackie stated, as if Spot's impression was delusional. Mush and Racetrack shared another look, causing Jackie's eyebrow to pop up and her annoyance to grow. "Did I miss sumthin'?"

"Well," Racetrack started, "we was thinkin'—"

"Yeah, and?" Jackie interrupted; she had an idea of what Race was about to say, and she didn't like where it was headed. Racetrack shifted his weight from one foot to the other, like he was nervous.

"Maybe we oughtta ease off a little, Jackie. Without Spot an' the othahs, dere ain' enough of us." He finished with a regretful shrug. Jackie turned away from him slowly, leaning against the statue and letting her head loll back to thump against the hard surface. Her cigarette was hanging loosely out of the side of her mouth, and she wore a completely bewildered expression on her face.

"Yeah, maybe we're movin' too soon. Maybe we ain' ready, ya know?" Mush tried to reason with her, his usual grin was wiped from his face. Mush never talked about his feelings much, but in that moment, the look on Jackie's face was breaking his heart. He felt like he was letting his leader down, like he was supposed to do so much more and he just gave up. It was not a feeling Mush liked. Little did he know that Racetrack was feeling the exact same thing.

"I definitely think we should forget about it for a little while," Skittery added with a bitter tone. Jackie's head inclined toward him, a glare settling on her face.

"Oh, do ya?" she spit out at him. Skittery glared right back at her.

"Yeah, yeah I do!" His words sparked a fuse in Jackie, and she straightened sharply, yanking the cigarette from her mouth and turning to face her three newsies. She was completely pissed, and a little bit disgusted by the fact that Spot was able to insult her own borough by calling them cowards and him be absolutely right.

"Spot was right," she bit out. "Dis is jus' a game ta you guys! I thought dis was gonna be about sumthin' more! I thought it was gonna fin'lly be tha day when us kids become sumthin' more dan street rats. I'm tired a' bein' one, an' I thought you all were, too…but I was wrong…" Jackie threw her unfinished cigarette to the ground in anger and walked away, shaking her head dejectedly.

David looked on sadly as the newsies who were watching the confrontation dispersed. He strolled around Horace Greeley's statue, deep in thought; he wanted to be able to boost morale, but was at a loss. Suddenly, he thought of his time in school, when they had been going over Latin phrases, one of which was _carpe diem_. David remembered the translation, too; _seize the day_. That's exactly what the newsies needed to do, in David's opinion: seize the day.

"_Now is the time to seize the day,"_ David sang, catching the attention of a few surrounding newsies, _"stare down the odds and seize the day. Minute by minute, that's how you win it. We will find a way, but let us seize the day!"_ David walked around the statue, singing his words of encouragement. Mush looked up from where he had slumped to the ground after Jackie's outburst. David gave him a small smile before helping him up.

"_Courage cannot erase our fear; courage is when we face our fears."_ David's words were wise beyond his years, but it was exactly what the newsies needed to hear to get thinking once more. _"Tell those with power, safe in their tower, we will not obey!"_ David went over to Jackie, and placed a hand on her shoulder. She looked up to meet his eyes, and a corner of her mouth turned upward in a small twitch.

"_Behold the brave battalion that stands side by side,"_ they sang, _"too few in number, but too proud to hide."_ David and Jackie turned to face all of the Manhattan newsies, willing them with their voices to believe what they so desperately believed. _"And say to the others who did not follow through, you're still our brothers and we will fight for you."_

"_Now is the time to seize the day,"_ David and Jackie sang together, _"stare down the odds and seize the day."_ Crutchie had joined in, hobbling up to them with a large grin plastered on his face. As they kept singing, the rest of the newsies layered in bit by bit. _"Once we've begun, when we stand as one, someday becomes somehow, and the prayer becomes a vow…"_ Jackie broke away from the group and faced her borough.

"_And the strike starts right damn now!"_ She sang out, causing the newsies to go into an uproar of confidence.

"_Now is the time to seize the day!"_ David sang out, and the newsies called back, dancing all the while.

"_Now is the time to seize the day!"_

"_Answer the call and don't delay!"_

"_Answer the call and don't delay!"_ The newsies danced and sang together with renewed vigor and determination. _"Wrongs will be righted if we're united. Let us seize the day!"_

"_Now let 'em hear it loud an' cleah!"_ Jackie's much more distinct alto voice rang out.

"_Now let 'em hear it loud and clear!"_

"_Like it a' not, we're drawin' neah!"_

"_Like it or not, we're drawin' near! Proud and defiant, we'll slay the giant. Judgment day is here!" _The newsies came together, shaking hands and skipping and dancing around one another. _"Neighbor to neighbor, look what's begun! One for all and all for one!"_

"_Now is the time to seize the day!"_ Cue clever little choreography bit. _"They're gonna see there's hell to pay!"_ Cue another clever choreography bit, this one splitting the newsies into two groups. _"Nothing can break us, no one can make us quit before we're done! One for all and all for—"_

"_One for all and all for—"_

"_One for all and all for one!"_ The newsies ended their song with fists held high in the air, breathing heavily. It was so quiet once they finished, a few newsies actually flinched when the circulation bell started ringing.

"Anybody hear dat?" Jackie yelled.

"No!"

"So whatta we gonna do about it?" she goaded.

"Soak 'em!" came the roaring cry of the newsies, and they all rushed into the gates. They were met by a few scabbers.

Jackie was at the front of the pack, David on one side, Racetrack on the other. Within reach were Mush, Kid Blink and Skittery. One by one, three scabs threw down their papers and joined the newsies, Jackie clapping them on the back as they did so. The fourth scab, though, just tries to walk past Jackie; the rest of the newsies are blocking his path, so he stares Jackie down. Without warning, he yanked Jackie's cap off her head, her hair cascading down in messy dark brown ringlets.

"I don' gotta listen ta you," he remarked snidely. "Ya just a stupid goil!" The Manhattan newsies were suddenly very angry; no one messed with their leader if they had anything to say about it. Jackie's face slid into an evil glare, and David's mind started to panic. He didn't want this strike to come down to violence, not if he could help it.

"Jackie, come on," he pleaded. "It's fine, just let it go."

Jackie ignored David's comments, pushing him behind her. The rotten scabber laughed at the sight, smirking smugly. Jackie slapped the papers out of his hand and they landed on the ground with a thud. The boy bent over to pick them up when Jackie smashed his head into her knee, grabbing her hat back out of his hand.

"No one questions my authority! I'm backed by Brooklyn, ya doity scab!" she roared. Suddenly, the newsies were storming the Distribution Center, soaking the other scabs until they ran away. It didn't take long, and for that, the newsies celebrated, tearing up all the newspapers.

Outside of the gates, Denton had showed up and started to write about the hilarious sight of newsies tearing up newspapers. Back inside, Jackie looked over her shoulder to find Oscar and Morris Delancey staring at her wide-eyed. She smirked and finger-saluted them before jumping down and tearing up some paper for herself.

While the newsies celebrated, though, Weasel had called the cops, and the familiar screech of their whistles had reached the newsies ears.

"Cheese it! Cheese it, it's tha bulls!" Jackie cried out over the ruckus just as the cops entered the gates. All of the newsies ran out, some of them barely avoiding the cops. Jackie craned her neck as she ran, mentally accounting each and every face she saw, making sure no one was left behind. Then, her eyes widened, and she stopped suddenly.

"Crutchie!" she heard Racetrack yell from behind her, confirming her fear. "Scram, Crutchie! Scram!" She looked past the gates to see Crutchie sitting on a pile of papers, happily tearing up every newspaper his fingers caught. When he finally heard Racetrack's warnings, he stopped immediately and hopped down, limping for the exit with his crutch in hand. He almost made it to the gates before he was blocked by cops, and when he turned around, he came face to face with the Delancey brothers.

"H-h-heya, fellas," Crutcie stuttered, "how's it goin'—" Morris kicked his crutch out from under him, causing Crutchie to fall to the ground with a painful grunt, and then he and his brother dragged him off. "N-n-n-o! Wait! Help! Help! Help!"

"Crutchie!" Jackie screamed. She started to run after him, but was caught around the waist by Racetrack. "No, I gotta get Crutchie!" Jackie tried to claw her way out of Racetrack's grip, but it was no use. She saw Denton out of the corner of her eye, desperately trying to help, but being ignored and brushed to the side. Jackie made a mental note to thank him for trying the next time she saw him. Jackie looked back to the spot where Crutchie had just been, and her eyes flooded with tears she refused to shed. She continued to scream out for Crutchie, though, and even after Race had hauled her back to the Lodging House, she could still hear Crutchie's voice, crying out for help as he was dragged into an alley and probably given the worst beating of his life.

* * *

**A/N: See, what'd I tell ya. Long chapter, allllllll for you. Well, it's longer than the last one. And in retrospect, the last chapter wasn't all that short anyways. So it didn't really matter that this was a longer chapter or whatever. Oh well. It was the hardest one to write so far, though, so that's gotta count for something, yeah?**

**Oi, I need more sleep.**

**Until next time, my lovelies!**


	8. Take it Like a Leader

**A/N: Hiya, guys! So, I'm really happy that this story is getting a bunch of views and few reviews, and I just wanted to give a shout out to a few people!**

**I've gotten a couple guest reviews, so if you know that's you, thanks for your feedback!**

**Ealasaid Una****: Thanks for your comments, I'm glad you're enjoying the story! And to answer your question, yes, the Manhattan newsies know Jackie's a girl. Most of the other newsies in New York know about it, too.**

**ShowYourWings****: Thanks! You're really sweet, and I'm happy to know you like the story.**

**To bE mY HEaRt****: Yes…you guys will get to find out what Spot's "offer" is, but that's a chapter or two away.**

**Okay, my lovely readers, here is chapter eight!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies! Cheshire is my own character, and Jackie is partially mine...she's not Jack, guys. She's just based off of him. Sort of. Just enjoy the story and don't sue me.**

* * *

For the rest of the day, the newsies stayed inside the Lodging House; they were all in a state of shock at the loss of Crutchie, but Jackie's reaction worried the newsies. For a good half an hour, Racetrack and Mush had to forcibly hold Jackie to the ground after she tried to go back for Crutchie again. She kicked and scratched and screamed and hollered, but to no avail. At one point, her screams eerily resembled wracking sobs. Jackie's blatant display of raw emotion had an effect on everyone, David included. There was a lump in his throat that refused to go away as he stood by, feeling completely helpless and utterly useless.

Once Jackie had finally stopped squirming, Racetrack and Mush slowly and carefully let her go. Jackie stayed completely still, her hair and hat shielding her eyes from everyone. Her breathing was sluggish, and it shook, although just barely, on every inhale. The newsies were all surrounding her in a wide circle at the bottom of the stairs, just inside the Lodging House. Even Kloppman had joined them, a sorrowful look on his face.

They all watched as Jackie sat up slowly, her hat falling down to her side and into her hand. David took in the details of her face; her eyes were red, and glossy, but there were no tear tracks on her cheeks. Her bottom lip quivered slightly as she pressed her mouth into a tight line. There was tense silence among the newsies as Jackie stood and walked up the stairs.

The newsies followed Jackie up the first flight and into a door. Inside were several tables; this was where the newsies played cards, and bet their money and cigarettes against each other nearly every night. Jackie herself had won many a night, her talent with cards something she picked up from Cheshire.

David kept his focus on Jackie, who walked to the farthest corner of the room and sat down in a chair. She rested her elbows on her knees for a moment before dropping her head into her hands.

The newsies all filed in, taking seats here and there. Most of them took out cigarettes and lit them, breathing in the harsh tobacco. A murmur of solemn conversations started once they realized their leader wasn't going to address them. Even Les and the youngest of the boys had sat themselves down with the others in seriousness.

As the next couple of hours passed by, Jackie made no change in position whatsoever.

"Come on, Jackie," Mush pleaded, "won' ya jus' look at me? Please?" She made no move to answer and said nothing. Mush was kneeling in front of her, his hands resting gently on her calves. His eyebrows were locked together in concern, and he could feel his heart clench for her; she was one of his best friends and an invaluable figure in his life. Knowing that she was blaming everything on herself made him feel horrible.

After a full five minutes of begging and pleading with her, Mush stood to his feet and turned to the few newsies who were still watching Jackie intently and shrugged. For once, he was at a complete loss for words. Kid Blink tried his luck next, carefully walking over to sit in the chair beside her.

"It'll be okay, Jackie," he said softly, which was extremely out of character for him. Usually, Kid Blink never showed that he cared a lot for the newsies, but he did, especially Jackie. She'd been a friend, a sister and a mother to him when he'd really need it, and for that, he would always be thankful. Seeing Jackie like this cut him to the very core.

Blink sat next to her for a while, a comforting hand on her shoulder. Every once in a while, he'd tell her everything was going to be okay and rub his thumb across her shoulder soothingly. After a fair amount of time had passed, Blink stood with a sigh and walked back over to Mush; his best friend clapped him on the shoulder and gave him a meaningful look and he nodded in return.

One by one, several of the newsies made their attempts to get a reaction out of Jackie; Mush, Kid Blink, Itey, Pie Eater, Swifty, Bumlets, Boots, Les, and even Skittery tried, but none of them were successful. Finally, Racetrack turned to David, whose gaze was transfixed on Jackie.

"'Ey, Davey," he said, pulling David from his thoughts. "Why don' _you _talk to 'er?"

"Why would she listen to me?" David asked, confused.

"I'm jus' sayin'," Race shrugged. "It might work." The newsies around them murmured their agreements, and after a moment, David nodded and stood from his seat. Racetrack tugged on his sleeve. "I'll round up the boys and we'll give you two some space, a'right?"

"Okay," came David's feeble reply. Racetrack quietly got all the newsies to leave the room and head up to the bunks. David went to go shut the door and found Race leaning inside the frame.

"Tell 'er it wasn't 'er fault, Davey. Dat might do some good." Race's voice was soft and had an almost fragile tone. People usually forgot that Race and Jackie went way back; he was her first friend in the Brooklyn borough after Spot and Cheshire, and he was the one to take her to Manhattan after 'the incidents.'

David nodded again and Race shut the door behind him as he left. David stared at the door for a few seconds before taking a deep breath and trudging his way over to the unstable Manhattan newsie leader.

"Jackie?" He kneeled in front of her, like Mush had about two hours previous. "It's me, David. Um…I don't really know what to say." David felt awkward and foolish, but he felt that he had to try harder, if not for the other newsies, for Jackie herself.

"I want to say that everything is fine, and that I understand, but I don't. You're responsible for a whole borough of boys, and being a leader must be hard, but you gotta understand, Jackie…what happened wasn't your fault." David's voice was beginning to crack with emotion, but Jackie stayed silent. "Please, just understand that. All of the newsies are upset that Crutchie's gone, but you know what? They still have you. They have you, and they need you. _We_ need you, Jackie."

Somewhere in his speech, Jackie's hands had dropped from her face, and were replaced by David's. Once he was finished, her eyes met his and David saw the absolute sadness inside them, and it broke his heart; her dark brown eyes were clouded with the tears she refused to shed, and David couldn't see the spark of life anymore.

Jackie clenched her jaw and mashed her lips together just as a sob was threatening to break through. She unceremoniously fell into David's arms, grabbing onto the fabric of his shirt like it the only thing keeping her living. David wrapped his arms around her, rubbing soothing circles on her back and running his fingers through her hair comfortingly as she choked back sobs and held onto him for dear life.

"Shh, Jackie…I got you…I got you…shh…" David continued to whisper in Jackie's ear, burying his face into her mass of hair. After a few minutes, Jackie's breathing had slowed to a somewhat normal pace, and her shoulders stopped shaking. David could feel her hot breath on his collar bone as she nuzzled her forehead into the crook of his neck.

"Thank you, Davey." Jackie's voice was raw from her screaming earlier that day, but it was the first coherent sentence she'd uttered since her arrival at the Lodging House. David sighed in relief and squeezed her tighter in response. Jackie pulled back to look at David's face, their noses mere inches away. "Really, I mean it. Thank you." Her voice was filled with fervent gratitude as she looked him right in the eye.

Then, ever so slowly, she leaned forward and pressed her lips to the side of his face. She stayed in that position for a couple seconds before standing to her feet and offering David a hand.

"Come on, I gotta go talk ta me boys," she said flatly.

David nodded and took her hand, but his mind was far away.

Jackie Kelly. Kissed him. David Jacobs. Who cared that it was on the cheek? He was still going to count it as something. David swore on the Almighty One above that his heart stopped the moment her lips met his skin. Oh, yeah, David was in deep, and he wasn't sure if there was a way to climb out of the abyss...not that he really wanted to, anyway.

Jackie led him through the door and up another set of stairs to the bunk room, where she assumed they all were. When she opened the door, the room went silent. Every newsie in the room stared at Jackie, and then at David, who stood behind Jackie.

"A'right, listen up," she told them. "I'm sorry fah tha way I handled dis mo'nin'. I'se ya leadah, but I shoa didn' act like it. It took Davey, here, fah me ta see dat I can' be stupid no more…I got you lot ta look afta, an' me losin' my shit ain' gonna help. From now on, it'll be different. I'll go at dis strike with a cleah head, an' I'm puttin' you foist…" she paused, as if for effect, but David knew that she was just trying to collect herself again. "You're me boys…me Manhattan crew…an' I couldn' be prouda to be your leadah."

"We got a pretty great leadah, so our job is easy," Mush grinned as he rushed to Jackie and tackled her in a fierce hug. Kid Blink followed, although his hug wasn't quite as excited. Racetrack stood at about an arm's length away, his signature cigar hanging from his smirking face.

"C'mere, doll face," he said, arms open wide. Jackie shook her head and chuckled, but fell into his embrace willingly.

"Thanks, Race," she breathed, "Yer a good friend."

"It's what I'm here for, Jackie." Suddenly, Jackie pulled back and landed a punch on Race's upper arm.

"An' don'cha evah call me 'Doll face' again, a'right?" Racetrack winced as he rubbed his arm before chuckling lightly.

David watched as Jackie interacted with her newsies, a small smile on his face. Jackie was far from happy, but she was starting to cope, and that's all he could've asked for in that moment. He could work on making her happy tomorrow.

Jackie gathered Mush, Kid Blink, and Racetrack together and spoke with them in hushed tones. Soon, the three boys nodded at her and Mush looked at David pointedly.

"Take Davey with you, a'right?" David heard him say. He also heard her murmured reply of "Fine, Mush." The three of them clapped her on the shoulder and he could've sworn they were muttering their versions of 'good luck.' Jackie sauntered back over to David.

"A'right, Davey," she spoke quietly, "we're gonna take Les home, an' den you an me—we're goin' ta da Refuge. We're gettin' Crutchie back." David nodded quickly. "But foist thing's foist…" Jackie glared in her pause.

"What?" David pulled a confused and worried face. Jackie's mouth twisted to the side.

"We gotta get my hat."

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**A/N: Okay, so that was just a quick little update. The next chapter'll be longer, promise! Please review!**

**Until next time, my lovelies!**


	9. Brooklyn's Here, So Watch What Happens

**A/N: I'm baaaaaa~aaaaack! And I bring gifts! Well, actually, gift. Singular. One chapter. But I also bring good tiding and cheer! So be merry, my friends! I do have a shout out, though:**

**newsieluva****: Thank you for understanding me perfectly. For that, I love you.**

**Okay, I'm done. Please, read on.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own this fandom! I would be one bad ass mofo if I did.**

* * *

When Jackie and David left to take Les back to the Jacobs' home, the sun was just beginning to set. After a tense dinner there, David and Jackie were leaving once more.

Esther and Mayer stopped Jackie at the door after David had already walked through. They were clearly worried, even though none of the kids had told them anything of the day's events.

"You make sure our son comes home safe." Mayer put a hand on his wife's shoulder and looked at Jackie seriously. She nodded back.

"Even if it kills me, sir," she responded. Before they could say another word, she tipped her hat to them and was out the door.

* * *

The sky was dark as Jackie and David walked through the streets of Manhattan. David had a jacket on, but it did little to warm him. Jackie still had one what she wore that morning; her was hair tucked up into her cap once again, and she sported a roll of rope on her shoulder. Upon reaching a certain building, Jackie stopped.

"So, here it is," she announced with a sigh, pointing at the gloomy building in front of them. "Tha Refuge. My home, sweet home."

"How can you be sure they sent him here?" David asked skeptically. Jackie scoffed.

"How can I be shoa tha Delancey's stink?" she asked indignantly. "It's just how things work, ya know? An orphan gets arrested, Snydah makes shoa he, or in my case, she, gets sent straight here, so he can rehabilitate 'im. Tha more kids in tha Refuge, tha more money tha city sends ta take care of 'em, tha more Snydah sticks it in his doity little pockets." Every time she said the warden's dreaded name, Jackie sneered. "Trust me, Davey…Crutchie's here."

David nodded, and for the first time, noticed the rope.

"…so, how come you brought the rope?"

Jackie just smirked and pulled him into the shadows of the building. They made their way up to the roof, and Jackie tied the rope around her waist and instructed David to do the same. Then, carefully, David lowered Jackie over the edge.

"An' Davey?" she asked, only her head above the ledge.

"Yeah?"

"Don' drop me." Her serious face looked as if it was etched in stone, but it didn't stop David from letting out a breathy laugh.

"Didn't you hear me earlier? I got you, Jackie," he smiled. Jackie huffed and lowered herself further, muttering what sounded to David like 'I'm gettin' soft.' David was initially surprised the lack of real effort it took for him to hold her whole weight. Then again, with her eating habits, and all of the running she did, it did make sense. Shaking the thought away, he kept slowly feeding the rope down to her.

"Steady. Steady, Dave," he heard her whisper up at him. "A'right, dat's good, I'm at tha window."

Jackie leveled out in front of a window on the top floor, and tapped on it quietly. A boy around Les's age opened it, and Jackie immediately recognized him from her own time spent in the Refuge. By the looks of his rueful smile, the boy recognized her as well.

"Hey, Cowboy," he greeted. "Ya miss tha joint?"

"Oh, yeah, desperately," Jackie scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Ya gotta new guy in here, Ten Pin. Crutchie." Realization dawned on Ten Pin's face.

"The gimp? I'll get him for ya." When Ten Pin called Crutchie 'the gimp,' her jaw clenched, but when she saw Crutchie limping heavily over with the help of another boy, all her previous thoughts disappeared. The left side of his face was swollen and was a bluish-purple was starting to develop there. His bottom lip was split in three places, and by the way he was clinging onto the boy helping him, Jackie figured he'd taken quite a few gut punches, too.

"'Ey, Crutch," Jackie said softly. Crutchie's face was a mix of disbelief, and extreme happiness.

"Oh, I don' believe it! What are ya hangin' 'round here for?" Jackie scoffed in mock offense.

"Whattaya mean what am I hangin' around here for? Ya know who's on da roof?"

"Who?" he asked, eyes widening. Jackie grinned at his gleeful expression, reminding her of her brother on Christmas. Practically everything Crutchie did reminded her of Francis; it was the reason Jackie had such a soft spot for him.

"Davey." Immediately, Crutchie leaned out the window to look at David, who was leaning over the edge to monitor the rescue mission.

"Is that Dave? Heya, Dave! How ya doin'?" Crutchie's volume escalated towards the end, and he was met by gentle shushes from both of his rescuers.

"Listen, Crutchie, go get ya stuff. We're gonna get you outta here." At this, Crutchie's chipper attitude deflated.

"Well, actually," he started, swallowing as he looked behind him. He leaned in a little closer to Jackie. "I ain' walkin' so good, Jackie. Oscar an' Morris kinda worked me over a little, ya know?" Jackie's eyes tightened, and for the first time since the raid of the Distribution Center, the fire had returned to her eyes.

"Dey hurt you?" Jackie's voice was quiet and calm, but still carried a deadly undertone. Slowly, Crutchie nodded. Jackie inhaled sharply through her nose before shaking her head lightly. "Don' worry 'bout it. Me an' Dave, we can carry you outta here," she insisted.

Crutchie's face suddenly turned angry on Jackie, and he stuck a long, dirty finger in her face.

"No, I don' want _nobody_ carryin' me, ya hear?" Jackie glared at him hard for a long moment before nodding once. The anger seemed to melt right off Crutchie's face as he leaned forward and twisted to talk to David.

"Hey, Dave! Ya know, they still talk about how Captain Jack rode outta here on that coach," he told him excitedly. David rolled his eyes.

"Oh, yeah. Teddy Roosevelt's right?" he replied sarcastically. Crutchie's face dropped in disappointment.

"Ya already hoid tha story…" David's eyes widened and he stared at Jackie's smirking face in confusion.

"Y-you mean it's true?" he spluttered.

"Of course!" Crutchie shrugged. Suddenly, the door to the room opened, and Crutchie moved from the window. "Hey, cheese it!"

Quickly, Jackie swung to the side of the window, out of sight. Snyder entered the room, inspecting the children. As Snyder approached the window, Crutchie grabbed his arm.

"Eh, Mistah Warden Snydah, sir. Ya know, I was thinkin'," he said, leading Snyder away from the window so Jackie could escape unnoticed. His voice faded from Jackie's ears as David hauled her back up to the roof. Once Jackie set foot on the floor of the roof, she looked at David with sad eyes, and shook her head.

* * *

Unbeknownst to the newsies, Weasel had gone to a higher power after the raid that afternoon. As Jackie and David were off on their rescue mission, Weasel stood in Joseph Pulitzer's office with Seitz and the big man himself.

"I don't think they're just going to go away, Chief," Seitz thought out loud. Unlike many other employees of Pulitzer's, he actually cared about what happened to the newsies.

"Mistah Pulitza, sir," Weasel piped, raising his hand stupidly for half a second. He was wearing a suit, oddly enough, and was wringing his hat in his hands. "Just give me the means an' I'll take care of them for ya."

"I will give you whatever means you require," Pulitzer replied without hesitation. "I want this nonsense dealt with once and for all."

"Chief—" Seitz started, but was cut off by a very angry Pulitzer.

"You shut your mouth, Seitz."

Though he wanted to speak up so badly, Seitz held his tongue; after all, he had a wife and three kids at home that he needed to be able to provide for. He just prayed that the newsies would make it through whatever sinister plan Weasel had cooked up.

* * *

Early the next morning, the Manhattan newsies gathered in the Square. Their faces were solemn; when Jackie had come back to the Lodging House with no Crutchie, it was an even bigger blow than before. They all stared up at The World Building, at the top, where Pulitzer's office was. They sang together a song of encouragement, determination, and hope.

"_Open the gates and seize the day. Don't be afraid and don't delay."_ Their voices blended together in harmony as they all glared at the tall and intimidating building. _"Nothing can break us; no one can make us give our rights away. Arise and seize the day."_

The newsies danced together in the Square, a fierce determination filling them all. They ended the choreography suddenly and silently as they blocked the entrance to the Distribution Center. Without warning, a delivery cart rushed through, but even then, the newsies made no noise. At the front of the newsies, Jackie stood proudly, flanked by David, Mush, Kid Blink and Racetrack.

"Alright," David's voice carried out. "Everyone remain calm."

Jackie's hands were twitching, and she began shifting her feet. She glanced at David and sent him an apologetic look before setting her face in a hard glare.

"Let's soak 'em for Crutchie!" She shouted, and the newsies roared behind her. They all charged toward the scabs with intimidating battle cries, and the traitors instantly retreated. Once inside the gates, another large door opened to reveal large men with clubs and chains.

"Jackie! Jackie! The Crib!" Racetrack yelled out, fearing for his friend's safety.

The newsies at the back of the mass turned to run out, but the gates shut in their faces. Some of the boys recognized Denton, running toward the gates like a madman to help them. Inside, a group of men formed a circle around Jackie, thoroughly trapping her.

"Heya, _Captain Jack_," Oscar sneered. "I always knew there was somethin' off about you…" His brother chuckled darkly beside him.

"Boys, try not ta catch 'er face…" Morris said loudly to the men closing in on Jackie. "I think I'm gonna have some _fun _with this one after we're done here…" His tone took a turn for the worse, maniacal lust flashing in his eyes. Jackie nearly gagged at the sight, but took a moment to spit in his face before turning to flee.

Instead of escaping, though, Jackie was met by a man with a large chain. He swung it at her, but she ducked just in time. As she stood, the man swung the chain again, and before she could react, it wrapped around her back and pulled her back to the ground. Jackie cried out in pain, and the men around her laughed. While she was down, they continued to swing chains at her. Once or twice, she felt a club come into contact with her gut in her attempts to push herself up. Jackie could barely register the yells of her friends trying to get to her through the mass of people.

Outside, Denton was still trying to get in, but failing miserably. With every passing second, he got angrier. He turned to a cop on a horse, outraged.

"Aren't you going to stop them, sir?" he asked. The cop just tried to back him away from the gates.

"Move it along, mister," the cop said.

Jackie kept getting hit over and over and over again, and she muffled her cries each time. Just as all hope seemed lost, though, newsies suddenly appeared on the rooftops, popping up one by one. Then, a boy with red suspenders and a black cane hopped down to a ledge, a triumphant smirk on his face.

"Never fear, Brooklyn is here!" Spot shouted. The newsies below all cheered.

"It's Brooklyn!" Jackie heard Mush yell out excitedly. The appearance of the Brooklyn newsies proved to be the boost needed for the Manhattan group to take charge and soak the ever living crap out of the crib.

Still on the rooftops, Spot and his boys took aim with their slingshots, a favorite weapon in Brooklyn; they started with taking out all the guys that surrounded Jackie, and before she could blink three times, the men with clubs and chains around her were face planted into the ground, down for the count.

Spot jumped down from his place on the roof and rushed over to her. He was greeted by her wide grin.

"Spot! I knew you'se couldn' stay away!" She told him happily. He could see the pain in her eyes, though, as she wrapped an arm over her torso tenderly.

"Come on, let's get you'se outta here," Spot muttered, practically carrying Jackie over to a safer area. As soon as he turned around, though, she went back in to fight with her boys.

Jackie looked around to see her newsies in the brawl of their lives; Racetrack had just kicked some crib in the balls, Skittery had just punched the lights out of another, and Mush was kicking some guy three times his size in the face. Spot ran over to the gates and pulled them open, and an entire horde of Brooklyn newsies stormed the Distribution Center. Together with Manhattan, they forced the crib back, and the newsies all cheered in celebration.

Amidst all the screaming and tearing of more newspapers, Denton had grabbed his camera, and ran into the swarm of kids to find Jackie. When he finally did, she was surrounded by several of her newsies and Spot. He fumbled around with the device and stand until he finally had it set up in record time.

"Jackie!" he yelled over the noise. "Jackie! Boys! Freeze! Freeze!" Jackie was laughing and cheering with the boys around her, but upon hearing Denton's voice, she whipped her head around.

"Denton?" she asked, completely caught off guard.

Denton snapped the picture, and Jackie, though surprised, was the only one ready for it. The others had weird or, for lack of a better term, downright derpy expressions on their faces.

* * *

Later that morning, Racetrack walked Les back to the Jacobs' home while Denton had taken Jackie and David back to his apartment so that Jackie's ribs could be taken care of properly. He had sent for a doctor, who arrived shortly thereafter, and Denton led him to his bedroom, where Jackie was resting on the bed. After an hour of waiting nervously, the doctor emerged from the room.

"Thankfully, most of her injuries consist of just bruising, although a couple of her ribs are indeed cracked. Be sure to keep icing her torso throughout the day; also, I would advise against major exercise and excessive movement," he told them. Then his face turned curious. "What exactly did she face to get such injuries?"

"Chains and clubs," David muttered grimly, a fierce glare on his face. The doctor's eyes widened significantly in surprise, but then nodded solemnly.

"Well, she is resting for now." He turned to Denton. "Don't hesitate to send for me if her condition changes."

* * *

"Will you please just go back and lie down!"

David Jacobs was furious. He had gotten _so_ worried about this girl who had been beaten with chains and clubs, and, being the stubborn New Yorker she was, she forced her way around him to wander around Denton's apartment. David was flailing his arms, and probably distracting the heck out of Denton, but he didn't care; there Jackie was, perusing the book shelf looking so laidback, so unaffected, and _so heartbreakingly beautiful_, and she wouldn't listen to a thing he said.

"Come _on_, Davey! I'm fine! It's just a little bruise!"

"Jackie. Your entire upper half is blue and purple. _That does not constitute as a little bruise!_" This time, David did shout. Jackie rolled her eyes, but stayed quiet. She looked over to see Denton type-type-typing away on his brand new typewriter. The day's events had been news gold for him. She didn't know how he was able to concentrate so hard with the noise of David's tantrum as a distraction. After another moment, Jackie looked back at David, who was still glaring at her.

"I've had woise, Dave," she said in a small voice. "Trust me, dis ain' nothin'…I'm fine."

David's anger completely diminished at that, which made him kick himself mentally. He was completely and utterly whipped, and they weren't even together. He finally settled on a scowl and pouted lips as he responded.

"Fine…but don't think that lets you off the hook," he grumbled. He went to the kitchen and quickly grabbed some ice before he gently guided Jackie by the arm from the bookshelf to the couch, laying her down on it. Very carefully, he held the ice to her ribs, and he heard a small, but sharp intake of breath on Jackie's part.

"Okay…maybe not as fine as I thought…" she relented, causing David to smirk.

On the other side of the room, Denton crumpled up yet another piece of paper and thrown it into his growing piles of scrap.

"Is it really that hard to write about us newsies?" David asked curiously. Denton sighed and turned to face the two teenagers.

"I just want this story to be perfect. I want to do you kids justice, and not let you down."

"_Write what you know,"_ Jackie sang, and Denton caught on immediately.

"_So they say, all I know is I don't know what to write or the right way to write it,"_ the reporter sang, confusion and frustration clear in his tone. Jackie didn't care about it, though; she also wanted the story to do justice to the boys who risked their lives to make something of themselves.

"_Dis is big, mistah! Don' screw it up,"_ she sang, _"dis ain' some little Vaudeville you're reviewing."_

"Jackie!" David cried, appalled at her words. She shrugged in response, and Denton turned back to type once again.

"_Poor little kids versus rich greedy sourpusses,"_ he mused.

"_Hey, it's a cinch! It could practically write itself,"_ David exclaimed excitedly.

"_And let's pray it does, 'cause as I may have mentioned I have no clue what I'm doing. Am I insane?"_ Denton wondered aloud, completely lost with his own course of logic and sanity.

"_This is what you've been waiting for,"_ David mentioned, moving away from Jackie to Denton.

"_Well, that,"_ he agreed, then continued with a smirk. _"Plus the screaming of ten angry editors."_ Suddenly, Jackie popped up behind them, acting her way through her own lyrics.

"'_A girl? It's a girl!'"_ she sang, pretending to be the editors talking about the girl strike leader.

"'_How the hell?'"_ Denton played along, and then, so did David.

"'_Is that even legal?'"_

"'_Look, just go and get her!'"_ Jackie finished.

"_Not only that,"_ David continued, this time serious, but still excited_. "There's a story behind the story: thousands of children exploited, invisible."_

"_Speak up, take a stand!"_ Denton sang, standing to his feet himself.

"_And there's someone to write about it,"_ Jackie sang with a smile, clapping Denton on the shoulder.

"_That's how things get better,"_ David and Jackie finished together.

"_Give life's little guys some ink and when it dries just watch what happens," _Denton sang as he finished a page, plucking it from the slide and placing it on the desk in front of him.

"_You'll see us live an' breathe right on tha page,"_ Jack sang, pointing a finger at the newly printed paper. _"And once we're center stage, you watch what happens!"_

"That was very eloquently said," Denton complimented her. Jackie responded with a genuine smile, a modest head nod, and mumbled thanks.

"_And who's there with his camera and his pen,"_ David sang at Denton, _"as boys turn into men!"_

"_We'll storm the gates,"_ Denton sang back, _"and then!"_

"_Just watch what happens when we do!"_ David and Jackie finished once again.

"But jus' so we're cleah, I'll be da only one out dere not turnin' inta no man, capeesh," Jackie clarified, earning chuckles from both of the men. Suddenly, Jackie's face slid into a smirk.

"_Pictah a wondrous, heroically, charismatic—"_ she started.

"_Plain-spoken, know-nothing—"_ David finished, and Jackie whirled on him angrily.

"_Well, you'se is jist a cocky little sunnuva—"_ she began once more, this time interrupted by an exasperated Denton.

"_Lie down with dogs and you wake up with a raise and a promotion."_

Still angry and indignant, Jackie turned back to David.

"_At least I ain' a floit!"_

"_No! Just a complete ego-maniac,"_ he sang back, annoyed. He may have harbored major feelings for the girl, but he really needed to hide that; the only way he knew how was to pretend to not like her as much as he really did.

"_The fact is she's also the face of the strike,"_ Denton reasoned.

"_Oh, what a face…"_ David mumbled sarcastically, rolling his eyes. Jackie seemed to see right through David's ruse, though, since she just flashed him a crooked smile.

"_Face the facts,"_ she sang, _"I got a face that you save ya, Dave, from sinkin' in tha ocean."_ David rolled his eyes again, this time good-naturedly and just continued to help Denton write the article.

"_Like someone said, power tends to corrupt,"_ he supplied, to which Denton's eyes widened and his typing increased tenfold.

"_And absolute power,"_ Denton sang, knowing exactly where he was going.

"Wait, wait," Jackie started. _"Corrupts absolutely!"_ she cried, completely thrilled that she formed that thought on her own.

"That is GENIUS!"Denton shouted.

"_Oh, just give 'er some time, she'll be twice as good as that six months from never," _David sang teasingly; Jackie responded with a mock glare and a good fist to his shoulder.

"_Just look around at the world that we're inheriting, and think of the world we'll create,"_ Denton sang, inspiration flowing through him at last.

"_Dey're mistake is dey got old!"_ Jackie sang, grinning widely.

"_That is not a mistake we'll be making,"_ David added.

"_No, sir, we'll stay young forever!"_ David and Jackie informed the reporter. Jackie turned to look out the window as the sun set over the horizon, pink, orange and gold lighting up her wistful expression.

"_Give me boys an' me tha brand new century, an' watch what happens."_

"_It's David and Goliath,"_ Denton sang as he winked at David.

"_Do or die,"_ Jackie continued, turning to face Denton and David again. _"The fight is on."_

"_And I can't wait for what happens,"_ David grinned.

"_But all I know is nothing happens if you just give in,"_ Denton sang seriously.

"_It can' be any woise den how it's been!"_ Jackie responded, shrugging.

"_And it just so happens that we just might win,"_ David pointed out; by this time, all three of them had wide grins on their faces as Denton plucked the last of his article out of the typewriter and set it on the desk to face them in all its glory.

"_So whatever happens,"_ they sang together, _"let's begin!"_

* * *

**A/N: Alright, there it is! Hope you enjoyed it; please review and let me know!**

**Au revoir, my lovelies!**


	10. Close Calls For the King of New York

**A/N: Guys…we've gotten about halfway through the story already! Ah! I can't believe how fast this story is going by!**

**Thank you to all of you who are reviewing; it makes me smile and feel incredibly loved.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies or its characters, but I do love each and every one of them oh so much.**

* * *

Denton opened the door to Tibby's, the little bell in the doorframe ringing behind him. He was greeted by the Manhattan newsies and Spot in every table in the joint.

"Hey fellas!" he greeted happily, saluting them all with a folded up newspaper in his hand. They all shouted their various greetings and salutations in return.

Denton found Jackie at the head of a table next to David and Spot. He gave her a large smile, slowly revealing the copy of The Sun in his hand; a slow, crooked grin made its way across her face as she realized what it was. She snatched it out of his hand and splayed it in front of her on the table, the picture of the front page taking her breath.

"Whatcha got there, Jackie?" Boots asked curiously from behind Jackie's left shoulder. Spot crammed his way through the mass of newsies crowding up behind Jackie to see the paper over her right shoulder.

"Where's me pictah? Where's me pictah?" he asked impatiently. Jackie paid no attention to him, though, as Boots pointed at the paper with a confused look.

"All them words, there. That all about us?" he asked, and before Jackie could answer him, Mush spoke up.

"Look at that, Jackie. Ya know, ya look real pretty when ya smile like that!" he complimented, tapping his finger over her black and face in the photo.

David was utterly flabbergasted when Jackie fought back a smile and _blushed_ at the comment; he guessed that she must not have ever been told she was beautiful…a problem he was more than willing to remedy.

"Will ya get ya finga's off me face, Mush?" Jackie pushed his hand off the paper, giving him a grateful smile. Spot just rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, you're go'geous. Now where does it say my name? Where's my name?" Spot butted in, annoyed and impatient still. Jackie laughed and smacked him on the arm.

"Will ya quit thinkin' about yaself?" she reprimanded him. He responded with an annoyed glare, but Jackie just threw him a smirk. At this, Spot grumbled a bit and settled on a pout, making Jackie laugh again.

The green monster known as 'Jealousy' made its way into David's gut once again; he wanted so badly to be as close to Jackie as Spot was, and maybe even closer, but whenever those two had those little moments where no one else existed to them, he was becoming less and less confident in himself.

Shaking himself from his thoughts, David plastered a fake smile on his face as he turned to Denton.

"You got us on the front page," he exclaimed. He had to admit, even with the whole 'Jackie-Spot' thing, he was still extremely happy that the newsies had come out victorious in at least on area of the strike.

"You got yourselves on the front page," David responded, smiling warmly at the sight of the newsies gathering around the paper. "I just gotta make sure you stay there."

"So what?" Skittery's annoyed voice asked. He was the only newsie not thrilled about the article. "Ya get ya pictah in tha papes, so what's that get ya, huh?"

"Whattaya talkin' about?" Mush asked, appalled.

"Shut up, Skittery!" Jackie voiced, exasperated. "Ya been in a bad mood all day!"

"I'm not in a bad mood!" Skittery countered angrily.

"Glum an' dumb!" Racetrack exclaimed, smacking Skittery's cheek. "What's tha matta with you? Ya get ya pictah in tha papes, ya famous. Ya famous, an' you get anythin' you want. _Dat's_ what's so great about New York!" he continued, pounding a fist against the table for emphasis.

"_A pair a' new shoes with matchin' laces,"_ Mush sang, a wishful look on his face.

"_A permanent box at tha Sheepshead Races,"_ Racetrack added enthusiastically.

"_A porcelain tub with boilin' watah_," Spot sang, swirling his glass of coke.

"_A Saturday night with the mayor's daughtah!"_ Kid Blink sang out, jumping onto a table.

"_Look at me,"_ Race sang, hopping up onto another table and holding the copy of The Sun above his head. _"I'm tha King a' New York!"_ He started doing a jig as he sang, allowing his voice to grow nasally towards the end. _"Suddenly, I'm respectable, starin' right at'cha, lousy with statah!"_

"_Nubbin' with awl da muckety-mucks,"_ Jackie sang as she nabbed the newspaper from Race's hands and leaned back in a chair leisurely. _"I'm blowin' mah dough an' goin' deluxe."_

"_An' dere you be!"_ Race sang again, snatching the paper back and pointing at Jackie's smiling picture. _"Ain' you pretty?"_

"_It's my city, I'm tha King a' New York!"_ they finished together.

"_A solid gold watch with a chain ta twoil it,"_ Boots mused.

"_My very own bed and an indoor toilet,"_ Les added excitedly.

"_Havana cigars that cost a quarter,"_ Snipeshooter sang dreamily.

"_A regular beat for the star reporter!"_ David sang happily at Denton.

"_Tip your hat!"_ the newsies sang. _"He's the King a' New York!"_

"_How 'bout that? I'm the King of New York!" _Denton joined.

"_In nothin' flat,"_ the kids continued, _"he'll be coverin' Brooklyn to Trenton, our man Denton."_

"_Makin' a headline out of a hunch,"_ Kid Blink sang.

"_Protecting the weak,"_ Denton continued.

"_An' payin' for lunch,"_ Race added cheekily.

"_When I'm at bat,"_ Denton sang proudly, _"strong men crumble!"_

"_Proud yet humble, he's the King a' New York,"_ Race finished.

"_I gotta be either dead or dreamin',"_ the newsies sang in unison. _"Just look at that pape with my face beamin'. Tomorrow they may wrap fishes in it, but I was a star for one whole minute!"_

The boys and Jackie burst out into intricate choreography, tap dancing on top of the tables and the bar. There were a few solos here and there, but it was mostly all the newsies together. They all stopped after a bit, laughing loudly and goading each other on.

"So, Jackie," David mused, slinging an arm around her shoulder. "You? _King_ of New York? I thought you were done pretending to be a guy." Jackie's eyebrows shot up at first; it wasn't like David to be so laid back and casual with her, but she wasn't complaining. Surprisingly, she liked the way his arm felt around her…not that she'd ever admit that to anyone.

"Well, yeah, Davey," she responded with a shrug. "I mean, come on! Who wants ta be some stuffy _queen_..." Jackie's response drawled into nothing as she began a tiny, light as a feather tap dance that would have fit a delicate little girl.

"…when you can have tha real powah, an' be _king_!" she finished, jumping onto the table and kicking up her choreography, adding a flip her and there. The newsies all cheered loudly, obviously delighted by Jackie's new expressive nature.

The newsies danced some more before bursting out into song once again.

"_Starting now! I'm the King a' New York!"_

"_Ain't ya heard? I'm the King of New York!"_ Denton echoed.

"_Holy cow! It's a miracle: Pulitzer's cryin', Weasel? He's dyin'!"_ The newsies crowed with laughter.

_"Flash pots are shootin' bright as the sun,"_ they sang, incorporating the chairs in their dance routine. The newsies split into two groups, creating a round with their lyrics._ "I'm one highfalutin' son of a gun! Don't ask me how! Fortune found me, fate just crowned me, now I'm the King a' New—"_

_"Look and see! Once a piker, now a striker, I'm the King a' New—"_

_"Victory! Front page story, guts and glory, I'm the King of New York!"_

Once their song had ended, the newsies and Denton burst out into more cheers and laughter, gathering around their tables once more. After a few moments, they had all calmed down, and Jackie thought it was finally the time to talk business.

"A'right, let's have some ideas," she stated.

"Well, we gotta show people where we stand," David started.

"Yeah, so we gotta stay in tha papes," Jackie shrugged.

"My paper's the only one printing any strike news so far," Denton piped. Jackie nodded and twisted her mouth around in thought.

"So, we should do somethin' dat's so big, tha otha papahs'll feel stupid if dey try ta ignore us," she began slowly, "like a rally!" Her eyes grew wide at the idea. "A newsie rally with all tha kids from all ovah New York. It'll be the biggest, loudest, noisiest blow-out dis town's evah seen!" By the time she had finished, she and the rest of the boys were grinning widely.

"We'll send a message to the big boys," David agreed.

"Geesh, I'll give 'em a message," Racetrack offered cheekily, earning him a punch in the arm from Jackie.

A waiter came around and brought each of the newsies a fresh glass of coke.

"Dere's a lot of us, an' we ain' goin' away," Jackie announced seriously. "We'll fight 'till damn Doomsday if it means we get a fair shake." The newsies all murmured their agreements, and David held his glass in the air.

"Hey, guys. To our man Denton!"

"To our man Denton!" The newsies repeated, clinking their glasses together and downing them within seconds.

* * *

"Heya, Mistah Snydah, sir!" Crutchie greeted cheerily as he walked into Snyder's office. "How was ya suppah?"

Snyder didn't answer as he was too involved in staring at the morning edition of The Sun, particularly at the face of a smiling girl in the middle of a bunch of raggedy newsboys. As Crutchie piled Snyder's dinner plates on a try, he recognized the smiling face, and he grew a smile of his own.

"Heyyyy, dat's Jackie!" he exclaimed. "Wow, she shoa does look awful pretty when she smiles," he thought out loud. Snyder's head snapped up to Crutchie's, eyes wide.

"You know this girl?" he asked in an excited whisper. It was then that Crutchie realized his mistake.

"Eh, n-no, no I don't, s-sir," he stuttered quickly. Slowly, a sadistic smile slinked onto Snyder's face.

"You have a very famous friend, this Jackie," he drawled. "Do you know where she lives?"

"I never hoid of 'er, honest!" Crutchie nearly shouted; he was beginning to panic, and guilt was settling in the pit of his stomach. "It's this brain a' mine, it's always makin' mistakes. It's got a mind of its own!" By the look on Snyder's face, Crutchie knew he didn't believe him. He hung his head low as he walked back toward the door.

"Can I get you anything else, Mistah Snydah? Goodbye, Mistah Snydah." Crutchie's voice cracked near the end, fear and dread suddenly filling his whole heart. He walked out the door, and a single tear made its way down his face as he fled to his bunk.

* * *

Back at the Lodging House, the Manhattan newsboys spent the rest of the day making signs for the rally. Les and David had long since gone home, and Spot finally made his trek back to Brooklyn after giving his word that he'd be at the rally the following night.

"So, did I spell it right, Kloppman?" Dutchy asked, pointing at the piece of wood he'd been writing 'STRIKE' on.

"Very good, very good," the old man nodded in approval.

At that moment, Snyder walked through the door, and went straight to a book on the counter; it contained the names of all the kids staying in the Lodging House after they had paid for the night.

Since the strike began, most of the newsies couldn't pay for a bunk themselves, but Jackie had been more than willing to give up the money she'd been saving up from all of her good selling days in order to keep her boys off the streets; she'd even given up her own bunk and slept on the floor to house more of the newsies that had previously slept on the streets.

"Excuse me," Kloppman said to Snyder, taking the book out of his hands and shutting it. "Can I help you?"

"You have a girl who calls herself Jackie Kelly," Snyder stated unpleasantly. "I wish to see her." The newsies in the lobby all quieted, recognizing Snyder as the Refuge warden immediately.

"Jackie Kelly?" Kloppman asked, appearing confused. "Never heard of her…never heard of her." The boys in the room tried to hide their smiles at Kloppman's acting, glad to know that he wouldn't betray the Manhattan newsie leader. "Any a' you boys ever heard of a Jackie Kelly?" Kloppman asked the newsies around him.

"That's an unusual name for these parts," Specs drawled, playing along.

Just then, Jackie walked through the door, but Swifty was, well, swift in stopping her from fully entering the room. He pointed out Snyder to her, and she immediately entered stealth mode.

"Oh," Racetrack said in mock realization. "You mean _Jack_ Kelly." Snyder looked at him with interest, but was only met with Racetrack's amused smirk. "Yeah, she was here. But she put an egg in her shoe and…beat it."

The newsies all laughed at Race's antics, and Kloppman tried his best not to break character, pretending to shush him.

"I have reason to believe she's an escaped prisoner, possibly dangerous," Snyder commented; the newsies looked at each other behind Snyder's back, silently laughing at the idea.

"Oh, dangerous?" Kloppman asked in mock fear. "I better look in my files. This way, please," he said, waving Snyder over. As he distracted him, Jackie carefully crept toward the main door of the building and exited. The boys held up their newly made signs to cover up her escape.

"Give to the newsies' strike fund, mistah?" Race asked in an innocent voice.

Snyder handed him a penny, a sickeningly sweet smile growing on his disgusting face.

* * *

David woke when he felt the sun shined across his face; he quickly got up and dressed, being careful not to wake his brother. He went over to the window, pulling the curtain back; much to his surprise, he found Jackie slumped over on the fire escape, asleep. Carefully and quietly, he lifted the window up and whistled like bird. Jackie immediately jolted, and looked at David with startled eyes.

"Jeezus, Davey, d'ya wan' me ta have a hea't attack?" David chuckled.

"Sorry…did you sleep out there all night?"

"Yeah," she shrugged.

"Why didn't you wake us up?"

"Didn' wanna distoib no one," she replied simply. David stared at her for a moment before nodding his head up at his building's roof.

"Go up to the roof and wait for me there," he told her. Jackie saluted him tiredly and made her way up the fire escape. Once there, she walked over to the ledge and sat on it, swinging her legs around so they were dangling off the side of the building. She stared out at the city as the morning light cascaded across the building rooftops around her.

"Are you hungry?" David's voice called out from behind her.

"Davey, ya know I don' eat in tha mo'nin'," she reminded him with a sigh, moving to straddle the ledge and face David at the same time.

"Too bad. I brought breakfast," he said cheekily, with an impish grin. Jackie relented with another sigh and a shake of her head, hopping down from the ledge and over to the middle of the roof, where he was laying down a cloth and setting out the food.

"You know, my pop's really proud of you," he told her absentmindedly as he handed her some bread. "You should hear him talk about Jackie Kelly, girl newsie and strike leader, who occasionally takes her meals with us." Jackie chuckled once.

"Well, dis is one strike leadah who's gonna be very happy when it's all ovah, an' I can get outta here an' go ta Santa Fe," she told David truthfully. "I mean, dere's nothin' for me ta stay for aftah dis, is dere?" she asked, mainly to herself.

David didn't respond, but on the inside, he was dying a little; how could she say that she had nothing here, when she had the newsies, Spot, and him? He had hoped that he was more important to her…

"Ya know, you should see Santa Fe, Davey," she told him, making him perk up a bit. "Everythin's different dere. It's all biggah. Tha desert, tha sky, tha sun…" her voice faded away as she stared out into the distance again, lost in her own dream world of Santa Fe.

"It's the same sun as here," David pointed out.

"Yeah," Jackie sighed, "it jus' looks different…"

There was a pause in their conversation as David thought that he might have offended her in some way. His mind was frantically trying to find a way to ask for forgiveness, but instead, a question popped its way out of his mouth before he could stop it.

"What about you and Spot?" David's words were rushed, and after he realized he had said it out loud, he clamped his mouth shut.

"What about me an' Spot?" Jackie asked, quirking an eyebrow. David figured there was no going back now.

"Aren't you two…well…you know…"

Realization dawned on Jackie's face and she laughed lightly, once again confusing the heck out of David.

"Togethah?" she finished for him. "Nah, Spot's me best friend. Has been evah since I can remembah."

"Oh," David said simply.

"Yeah, 'oh'," Jackie laughed. "I used ta sell papes in Brooklyn. Spot's da one who taught me how ta fight, how ta be a leadah. Now dat I think about it, though…everybody did used ta say we'd get hitched one day…nevah really thought about it, I s'pose…"

While Jackie was lost in thought, so was David, although his were ecstatic; Jackie wasn't interested in Spot. _Jackie Kelly wasn't interested in Spot Conlon._ Nothing could have lifted his spirits more. Unexpectedly, another question pierced his mind.

"Then, what was he talking about the day at the docks? The offer, I mean," he added quickly once he saw the confused look on Jackie's face.

"Ah, dat…" she replied slowly. "It was a long time ago…it's kind of a long story."

"Well, we've got some time before we need to leave," he said, shrugging.

"A'right," Jackie mumbled, rubbing the back of her neck. "…where do I start? Oh, I know…I foist carried tha bannah in Brooklyn when I was seven, so ten years ago."

"Wow, that was a long time ago," David remarked.

"Yeah, don' get me started! But Brooklyn, Davey…I loved it dere. Nevah a dull moment," she told him nostalgically.

"Then why did you leave?" David interjected.

"Hold on, Davey, I'm getting' there! I came ta 'Hattan three years ago 'cause some a' da guys ovah dere didn' undastand da meanin' a' da woid 'no'," she revealed slowly. David's eyes widened in surprised, and his fists clenched in anger. Jackie noticed the reaction and smiled wryly in response.

"I told ya once, I survived woise things than Pulitzah…" Jackie thought about her home life before becoming a newsies, and decided that being a newsie had definitely been kinder than her childhood…but she didn't plan on telling David about that just yet.

"Anyways," she continued, "when dat started happenin', Spot was already da best fighta in New York, an' he'd just inherited tha title a' King a' Brooklyn from Cheshire. He said dat if I was his goil, den I'd be untouchable. No one would dare mess with Spot Conlon's goil…my best friend was willin' ta give up his freedom in ordah ta keep me safe."

"And you said no?" David felt like he already knew the answer, but he needed to make sure…

"Well, yeah." Jackie replied in a hurried tone, almost as if she was embarrassed. "I mean, call me old fashioned, but I thinks dat two people should love each othah if dey're gonna make a commitment like dat…I do love Spot, jus' not like dat, ya know?"

David hummed in response; his heart was doing back flips and front flips and everything in between.

"Have you ever…been someone's girl?" he asked timidly.

"Nah," she responded with a shrug. "Been too busy leadin', an' makin' shoa me boys are looked aftah fah me ta have any interest in anyone…I used ta be real sweet on Mush, though, when I foist came ta 'Hattan." she admitted sheepishly.

"Really?" David asked incredulously.

"Ha, yeah…got ovah dat one real quick…"

The two of them laughed for a moment before David steered the topic back to the one thing that was bugging him.

"What about your plan? After the strike, you're going to leave to Santa Fe…won't the newsies miss you? Won't you miss them?"

Jackie bowed her head and stood, walking back over to the ledge and leaning against it, palms down. She looked back over the horizon.

"Me boys'll undastand. Every newsie's got a past, some part a' deir life dey ain' proud of…or some part a' deir life dey'd ratha jus' forget an' believe nevah happened…every newsie's got a dream, an' mine's Santa Fe." She went silent for a moment, taking in a deep breath. "A' course I'll miss 'em. How could I not? Dey're me boys. I jus' don' think it'd matta too much if I was stayin' or leavin', dat's all…"

David said nothing as he pushed himself off the ground and made his way over to Jackie. He stood beside her, staring at her profile for a long moment.

"It'd matter to me," he said softly.

Jackie's face shot up to his to find him blushing; slowly, she smiled and turned back to face the city below. Just when David was about to say something else, he felt her rest her head against his shoulder gently, and his breath caught in his throat.

Tentatively, he wrapped an arm around her bruised waist, tucking her head into the spot between his neck and shoulder. He closed his eyes, taking in the feeling of holding this incredible girl in his arms, a grin nearly splitting his face in two.

Jackie bit her lip, failing to stop the goofy smile that was forcing its way onto her face; she couldn't help the giddy feeling in her gut. This boy that she met _three days prior_, had become one of the most important people in her life, and had made her feel more like a girl than she'd ever felt in her whole existence.

Santa Fe didn't even cross her mind as she thought of how perfect this moment was, and how she wished life could stay like that forever.

* * *

**A/N: OH MY GOODNESS, YOU GUYS. YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW HOW HAPPY I AM RIGHT NOW. LIKE SERIOUSLY. I HAVE SO MANY FEELS.**

**And that's why this chapter is SO FULL OF FLUFF.**

**Hope you all enjoyed the explanation of Spot's "offer," and the David/Jackie romance~!**

**À bientôt, mes belles.**


	11. Caught in a Vendetta? Rally Together

**A/N: Guys. I'm really sorry for going away for a while. I'll try not to do it again.**

**Disclaimer: Ladies and gentlemen, Newsies doesn't belong to me. I would like to note, however, that I wish it did.**

* * *

Joseph Pulitzer was _not_ a happy man. It all started when he had just wanted to beat Hearst at his own game, but that ended in a stagnancy in profit; then, he'd thought of the perfect plan: raise the price of the papers for the newsies just one measly tenth of a cent. But then,_ she_, happened. That girl newsie with the big mouth had to go and ruin everything by causing an uprising.

He stared down at the copy of The Sun on his desk; the girl's smiling face was circled, and her name, Jackie Kelly, was written next to it in red ink. Pulitzer had gathered the Mayor, the Police Chief, Snyder and Seitz in his office to discuss the matter of the newsie rally.

"Of course, the city is very concerned that this event doesn't get out of hand," the Mayor said. He stopped, looking at the chief of police.

"But we can't just charge in there and break it up, Mister Pulitzer," the chief finished. "We've got no legal cause." At this, Pulitzer gave them a sharp look.

"Would the face that this rally is organized by an escaped criminal be 'cause' enough, Mayor?" His voice was gruff and angry.

"Escaped criminal?" the Mayor asked unbelievingly.

"A fugitive from one of _your_ prisons, Mayor," Pulitzer snapped, causing the Mayor to shift in embarrassment. "A convicted thief. Been living at large for some time under the alias of Jackie Kelly. What's her real name?" he asked sharply Snyder, who was contentedly lounging on the sofa.

"Sullivan," he answered in a sickly sweet voice, "Mary Anne Sullivan, Your Honor. I would have caught her by now, but—"

"You know Warden Snyder, don't you, Mayor?" Pulitzer interrupted. "I believe you do; you _are_ the one who appointed him."

"Ahem, yes," the Mayor replied, clearing his throat. "Well, if this child is a fugitive, then the chief can quietly arrest her," he relented.

"No, no, no," Pulitzer stated slowly. "Not quietly! I want an example made out of her. I want this rabble she's roused to see what happens to those who dare to lead." His voice was dangerous and full of fire; it made Snyder gleeful and Seitz a little sick. "These newsboys should see justice and action."

"Arrest her at the rally?" the Mayor asked incredulously. Pulitzer nodded quickly, and moved to a different topic.

"By the way, Mayor…a few friends are coming over for cards tonight. Newspaper friends. Billy Hearst, Gordon Bennett. Perhaps you'll join us…talk about the coming election."

The Mayor gulped; he knew there was no way he could refuse Pulitzer's request and still be elected again…there was no going back now. He plastered a fake smile on his face.

"I'd be honored."

All the while, Seitz stayed silent; he had to, if he wanted to keep his job. But there was something in his gut telling him that this wasn't going to end well.

* * *

Jackie, David and Spot stood backstage in Irving Hall. Medda had jumped at the chance of hosting the rally, much to Jackie's pleasure. They had gotten all the newsies of New York to show up, and boy was that theatre packed. They were all dressed in their nicest clothes for the evening, ready to impress Medda.

Spot was completely cool and laid back, leaning against a wooden beam with his ams crossed. David stood next to him, his hands in his pockets; he looked to his left to see Jackie. She fidgeted, twisting her cap in her hand and bouncing on the balls of her feet. David watched her as she moved to tap on her teeth with her fingertips with one hand and use the other to hold her hat and tap out a different rhythm on her thigh.

David chuckled as he strode over to her, putting his hands on her shoulders and leaning down to face her completely.

"Hey, it's gonna be okay," he told her softly. She scoffed at him.

"Oh, please, Davey. Ya think somethin' like dis is makin' me noivous? I been waitin' ta get up dere all day!" she replied in an excited whisper.

"Me thinks you'se likes da spotlight a little too much, toots," Spot drawled, not bothering to move from his place. Jackie noticed how David's grip on her shoulders tightened at Spot's pet name, so she threw him a wink before turning to Spot.

"You forget your da one dat foist put me dere, Spottie Boy," she retorted with a grin. He responded with a smug smirk and a one sided shrug.

"Hey, ya can' blame me for you havin' da voice dat ya have, Jackie," he replied. "It's like you were born for a stage or somethin'."

"I've been sayin' it for years, she's a natural," Medda's sweet voice called out. "Alright, you kids are up," she told the three of them. Spot and David took their places on stage while Medda held Jackie back for a second. "You knock 'em dead, kid, ya hear me?"

"It's gonna be genocide out dere, Medda, so call da cops," Jackie joked back as she smiled ruefully. Medda chuckled and shooed her onstage. Jackie walked to the center, her cap forgotten somewhere in the back. The newsies all quieted, some out of anticipation, and some out of confusion. Jackie swept her gaze across the house of the theatre, seeming to make eye contact with each and every newsie in the joint.

"Carryin' tha bannah!" she shouted, throwing her fist in the air. The newsboys all stood and roared loudly, nearly deafening the three teenagers onstage.

* * *

The smoke of six cigars filled the room as Pulitzer led the Mayor around the table.

"You know Gordon, Mayor," he pointed at a stoutly man with a round face and even rounder glasses.

"Mister Bennett of the Tribune." Bennett was another older gentleman with a worn face and an incontrollable mustache.

"Mister Taylor of the Times." Taylor had no hair upon his head, and he wore a monocle with a gold chain.

"Of course, you know Mister Hearst." William Randolph Hearst was a stern looking man with dark brown hair parted down the middle and bags under his eyes.

"And this is the new member of our little group, Mister Gammon." Gammon had a kind looking face, old and weathered from years of life. "He just came back from Europe. Mister Gammon owns the New York Sun."

* * *

Once the newsies had quieted, Jackie began her speech; she didn't seem nervous at all, but instead stood tall and proud.

"So, we've come a long way, but we ain' dere yet, an' maybe it's only gonna get toughah from now on. But dat's fine! We'll jus' get toughah with it!" The newsies cheered in agreement. "But also," Jackie continued with a firm and declarative voice, "we gotta get smart an' start listenin' ta my pal David, who says 'stop soakin' tha scabs.'"

There was a murmur among the newsies, some of them confused at the notion, and others mocking it.

"Well what are we s'posed ta do ta da bums?" Race asked from his place in front of the stage. "Kiss 'em?" His comment earned a roar of laughter amongst the rest of the teenage boys around him. Spot walked up to Jackie, pushing her shoulder back slightly to face him.

"'Ey, any scab I see, I soak 'em. Period." Many of the newsies shouted out their thoughts, and David rushed between the two leaders, almost panicking.

"No, no! That's what they want us to do. If we get violent, it's just playing into their hands," he said, trying to convince the rest of the newsies.

"'Ey, look Mouf," Spot told him, "Dey're gonna be playin' with _my_ hands, a'right? 'Cause it ain' what dey say, it's what _we_ say. An' nobody ain' gonna listen to us unless we make 'em."

The newsies in the crowd were torn, taking different sides and starting to argue amongst themselves.

"Ya got no brains!" Jackie shouted at them all, causing them to go silent. "Why we startin' ta fight each otha? It's jus' what da big shots wanna see: dat we're street rats! Street trats with no brains! No respect fah nothin', includin' ourselves!" She took a deep breath before shouting once more. "So here's how it's gonna be. If we don' act togetha, den we're nothin'. If we don' stick togetha, den we're nothin'. An' if we can' even _trust_ each otha, den we're nothin'!"

"Tell 'em, Jackie!" Kid Blink cried from his place on the balcony. Jackie gave him a grateful half smile and he nodded back. She turned back to the rest of the crowd.

"So," she called in a quieter voice than before, "what's it gonna be?"

There was a short silence in the auditorium before Racetrack spoke up from his spot again.

"We're with you, Jackie," he stated, fully confident in her leadership. She grinned down at him as others clapped his shoulders and murmured their agreements. Then she turned to Spot and walked up to him, her face nervous as she glanced at David. She showed no fear to her best friend, though, as they stared each other down.

"So what about you, Spot?" she asked quietly. The theatre went silent, each and every newsie on the edge of their seats, eager to hear what Spot's final decision would be.

Spot scanned the auditorium before looking back at Jackie; he was so proud of her. His best friend had come so far in the ten years of carrying the banner. Against all odds, she became the leader of Manhattan, and in record time, too; no one had ever taken over after just three and a half years in a borough. It had taken Spot nearly seven years himself, and _that_ was considered quick.

And now, here she was, leading this strike against the most powerful men of New York…and he couldn't have been more proud to call her his best friend. He could also see the blooming romance between her and David, and he was in all honesty happy that she finally found someone that caught her eye. He took a second to glance over at said boy; he was practically sweating while he waited for the King of Brooklyn's answer.

"I say, that what you say," Spot drawled, leaning into her face ever so slightly; he could see David stiffen out of the corner of his eye, and he couldn't help but to smirk in amusement. "Is what I say."

Jackie grinned at him widely, and Spot smiled back; the two of them spit-shook and the crowd of newsies cheered. The second curtain behind the three teenagers onstage parted, revealing Medda in a bright huge poofy pink dress. The cheering from the newsies grew louder still.

Spot, Jackie and David jumped down off stage and sat down at a table. Spot grabbed a glass of scotch, sipping it slowly and savoring the taste as Medda began to sing.

"_High times, hard times, sometimes the livin' is sweet and sometime's there's nothin' to eat, but I always land on my feet!"_ The song was a favorite among the newsies, who had all seen Medda perform many a time before. Kid Blink was hanging off the banisters of the balcony, singing along loudly with a broad grin on his face. Jackie laughed at the sight, catching David's attention immediately. Whatever Medda sang next, it never reached his ears as he grabbed Jackie's hand softly. She looked up at him, a question in her eyes.

"Come on," he whispered into her ear. He pulled her up to stand with him and walked to a spot in the middle of the hall where the newsies were dancing around. He had intended to dance with her, but when he looked back into her eyes, he found that he couldn't move.

For a long moment, all they did was stare at each other, until suddenly, Jackie smiled at him warmly. David blinked before grinning back. He grabbed both her hands in his and she smiled even wider. At the same time, they both started to lean in, their eyelids drooping with every passing moment.

Without warning, several newsies ran between Jackie and David in an attempt to get closer to the stage, effectively separating the two. David craned his neck to see over the boys' heads, but Jackie had already blended in with the crowd.

Near the theatre entrance, Denton was standing next to a plant, his camera set up and his pen and pad of paper in hand. He glanced to his right and did a double take when he saw that Warden Snyder was watching the crowd with sickening interest. Denton's mind flashed to Jackie and he knew in his gut that he had to give her a chance to escape by distracting the warden.

"Excuse me," Denton said, tapping Snyder on the shoulder. Said man turned to face him with a sneer. "Aren't you Warden Snyder? Brian Denton of the Sun. How do you do, sir?" Denton tried to act interested as he shook the man's hand.

Across the room, David went back to sit with Spot, who was still finishing his scotch. Once he sat at a certain angle, he saw Denton talking with a man who looked incredibly familiar…David's eyes widened in fear as he nearly slapped the drink out of Spot's hand.

"What the hell, Mouf? Whattaya thi—" Spot shouted, but he stopped immediately at the look on David's face; he was pale, as if he'd seen a ghost.

"It's Snyder. Snyder, he's here, look!" David's words were rushed as he pointed a shaky hand at Snyder and Denton. Spot followed the direction of David's hand, and upon reaching Snyder, his eyes widened as well. Then he set his face in a hard glare.

"A'right, listen 'a me, Davey," Spot told him in a hushed tone. It didn't escape David's notice that it was the first time Spot had actually used his name instead of that nickname he'd made up. "You go get Jackie, make shoa she gets outta here. I'll round up me boys an' Manhattan, too…get ready fer a fight, Davey."

David nodded and rushed off into the crowd to find Jackie. Spot stood up slowly, snapping his suspenders. He stalked off to his second in command, Bluesy, who was standing next to Racetrack. Race was screaming his head off about how much he loved Medda, but as soon as he caught the look on Spot's face, he went silent.

"Snyda's here," Spot told them seriously. "We keep Jackie safe at all costs. Get ready fer a brawl." Racetrack nodded once in affirmation while Bluesy straightened his back and saluted at his borough leader.

"I heard about your wonderful work with the children, and I wondered if I might get an interview with you." Denton was still desperately trying to distract Snyder from finding Jackie, and he was reduced to go down the road of flattery with a complete rat; he could practically feel the bile trying to force its way up his throat as he spoke.

Meanwhile, David frantically searched the crowd of boys for Jackie; when he finally found her, she was laughing with Mush and Kid Blink as they twirled her around. A part of him registered just how beautiful she looked when she was happy, but the majority of him was focused on getting her out of there safe.

"Jackie!" he shouted over the noise, practically running into her. "Jackie, it's Snyder!"

"What? What?" Jackie could barely hear him over the screaming around her, but David just pointed over by the doors.

"It's Snyder! Right there!" David yelled in her ear. When she saw him, Jackie's eyes widened and her face paled significantly; David had a flashback to the day he'd met her and they'd had their first encounter with the warden of the Refuge.

Back at the entrance, Denton was losing Snyder's attention quickly, not that he had much of it to begin with. He grabbed his camera in one last act of desperation.

"Let me get that correct. That's Snyder, as in…_snide_?" Snyder whirled around to face Denton. "Smile, sir," Denton told him cheerily as he took the picture, the flash blinding Snyder for a second. Snyder staggered back, but he gained his sight back quickly; he pulled his whistle out angrily and blew into it, a shrill sound piercing the air. Before it ended, several policemen stormed through the doors, followed by even more.

Jackie turned to see Medda dancing joyously with her Manhattan crew and pulled her into a quick hug.

"Thanks, Medda. I gotta run. Looks like someone called the cops after all," she said in a rushed voice. She pecked her old friend on the cheek before grabbing David's hand and pulling him through the crowd.

Racetrack shoved Medda and a few of the smaller newsies into a corner of the theatre where he thought they'd be safe.

"No!" Medda cried out when he started to turn away. "Stay with me!" She pulled on his shirt sleeve with what little strength she had in her hysterics.

"Sorry, Doll, I gotta help!" he told her. When he turned around, though, he was met by a police officer. The large man proceeded to kick Race in the stomach and punch him until he was unconscious. Medda screamed and ran at the man, slapping him across the face.

"No! For God's sake! He's just a child! Can't you see that?" The policeman shoved her back into the smaller newsies and dragged Racetrack away as she screamed the boy's name over and over to no one in particular.

"No, no, no…" Jackie muttered to herself as she and David ran through the mass of teenage boys. "Can' let dis happen…can'…" The more she mumbled, the more hysterical she got, until finally, she made a dead stop in the middle of the crowd; her facial expression was one of rage as she yelled out, "I won'!" She started to run in to help her boys in the fight, but David dragged her back.

"No! We're gonna get you outta here!" She growled ferociously, but still complied as David intertwined their fingers to keep her close to him. He kept running, but everywhere he turned, he'd nearly run into cops. By the time they stopped moving, they were by Medda's stage swing. David was whipping his head around trying to find an escape route when he noticed that on the other side of the swing, not ten feet away, stood Snyder. He quickly jumped over the swing and took a seat on it.

"What tha hell ya doin', Davey!" Jackie screamed at him. "Dis ain' no time fah ya fun an' games, _dis is fucking WAR!_"

"I know! Push me!" he ordered. She looked at him, bewildered, before doing as he said and shoving him forward. As he swung forward, David kicked out his feet; the bottoms of his shoes connected with Snyder's nose, causing a sickening crack. Snyder staggered backwards before falling off the stage and disappearing into the sea of brawlers.

"Oi," Jackie commented, smiling, "dat was a nice one, Davey. Kinda mad it wasn' me, but still, I like ya style!" David rolled his eyes at her before pushing her forward.

"Thank you, now, go! Get out of here!" She nodded and grabbed his hand in hers.

"A'right, come on, Davey!" Jackie went to run, but was tugged back by the unmoving David.

"No, you need to get out of here, and I'll just slow you down," he told her sadly. She shook her head.

"No, ya won', Dave—"

"Go, Jackie!" he shouted at her, pulling his hand out of her tight grip. "I won't let you go back to the Refuge!"

After a brief moment of hesitation, Jackie nodded and turned to run away once more, but stopped _again_.

"Gahh!" she cried out, throwing her hands up in the air. She turned back to David, taking long strides until she was mere inches from him. She grabbed the front of his shirt in her fists, and yanked his face down to hers, forcefully pressing their lips together.

Before David could even respond, though, his arms were empty, left with only the slightest glimpse of her curly brown hair disappearing into the crowd once again.

As Jackie tried to maneuver her way through the different brawls, ducking stray fists and feet, she kept muttering to herself.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit." No matter what she did, she didn't stop repeating that same word over and over under her breath. Someone finally caught her, pushing her forward slightly; Jackie whipped herself around to face her attacker with a loud "_SHIT!_"

"Sorry!" Kid Blink shouted back; he put his hands on her shoulder and looked over her with his one good eye. "You a'right, Jackie?" he asked.

"Shit," was her only response.

"Yer right, shit," Blink scoffed as he towed her outside. He stopped when he saw they were surrounded by cops and horses and carriages. One of the cops closest to the two teenagers grabbed for her, but Blink shoved him to the ground.

"Beat it!" he shouted at them. He pushed Jackie back up the stairs, and she ran inside, still muttering "Shit" over and over. Before he could turn around, Blink was bashed hard over the head with a club, completely knocking him out. Two cops dragged him into one of the carriages, where Racetrack, Spot, Tumbler, Itey, Pie Eater, Bumlets and Boots were already thrown in various positions, all unconscious.

Once inside, Jackie found she had nowhere to go, and the cops were closing in on her fast. She ran up a set of stairs, but was met by a large man. He pulled his arm back and punched her hard in the jaw; Jackie flew back and was caught by six policemen. She tried to struggle, but her head was pounding and she could barely see straight.

She forced her eyes to stay open, though, as she searched through the sea of faces around her, trying to find out who was yelling her name over and over again. Her bleary gaze finally rested on David's panicked face; he was pushing and shoving his way through the cops, trying his hardest to get to her and grab her hand. She wasn't sure, but she thought she saw tears in his eyes.

Jackie tried to call out to him, but her body wouldn't respond. As she was carried further and further away, darkness started to surround her vision.

"Shit," she whispered, finally able to make some connection from her brain to her mouth. It only succeeded in draining the last bit of energy Jackie had, though, and after another second, she stopped struggling and succumbed to a dreamless sleep.

* * *

**A/N: WHAT. THE. HELL. DID. I. DO?**

**I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHERE THAT KISS CAME FROM.**

**DON'T THROW THINGS AT ME, I'M ALREADY DOING THAT.**

**Anywho, please review. Let me know if you hated it. Or, by some pardoning by God Almighty in Heaven, loved it. Either way is fine.**

**Until next time, mes belles.**


	12. The Refuge, The Offer and Santa Fe

**A/N: Guys, this chapter was really depressing. I have a permanent frown now. *le sigh***

**Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies, and it sucks. Because I want it. Badly.**

* * *

Spot opened his eyes with a disgruntled groan, head throbbing like never before. His forehead felt slightly sticky, most likely with the blood from his encounter with a club. It took him a second to realize it was completely dark, with the exception of pale moonlight casting through a small window. He could hear the sound of hooves clacking against the street, and wheels turning.

"Ah, fuck," Spot breathed, slumping back against the inside wall of the carriage. He was headed to the Refuge. After a moment of letting his eyesight adjust, he looked around at all the other boys in the carriage.

Racetrack was conked out beside him, a dark bruise forming on his chin. Kid Blink had blood caking the side of his face, matting his hair and staining his eye patch. Mush groaned from his place across the carriage, purple blooming across his forehead, but stayed unconscious. He recognized five more of Jackie's boys, all jumbled together in a pile, limbs tangled, blood drying and bruising forming. He saw two Bronx boys, Slight and Slip, one Midtown newsie, Slicker, and one other Harlem newsie, Shmutz.

After mentally taking note of everyone in the cart, he was torn between pride and anger; pride, because none of his boys were caught, and anger because _he_ of all people was. Spot sighed angrily.

"God, I hope she made it out…" he whispered to himself, thinking of his best friend.

He remembered when Jackie was first sent to the Refuge; they were eight years old, only a year into their newsie careers, and their papers had been ruined by the rain for three days straight. Without any money from sales, they didn't eat. Cold and hungry, Jackie became desperate and stole a loaf of bread for her and Spot to share; when the owner of the bakery saw one of his fresh loaves was gone, he immediately took off after Jackie. She had thrown the bread at him and told him to run; Spot was ashamed to say that he did, leaving Jackie to be caught by the baker and a cop.

After three long weeks without her, Jackie strutted into the Brooklyn Lodging House with a smug smirk on her face; she looked even thinner than she had before, but somehow, stronger. Cheshire stalked over to her and grabbed her by the shoulders.

"_Where the hell 'ave ya been, Cowboy? I let you an' Spot outta me sight fah ONE FUCKING MINUTE, an' you go AWOL on us! FUCK! Do you 'ave ANY idea how WORRIED I'se been? FUCKING SHIT, COWBOY! FUCKING SHIT!_" he had yelled in her face. She refused, however, to drop her smirk.

"Don' worry so much, Cheshie," Jackie replied lightly. "I'se been in da Refuge, but it's no big deal. I gave 'em me otha name. Snyda'll nevah know. 'Sides, I escaped," she explained in a nutshell.

"The _fuck_? How didja 'scape da Refuge?" he asked her incredulously, his eyes bugging out of their sockets.

"I'se jus' dat good, Chesh," she drawled, pulling her shoulders out of his grip and walking past him to stand in front of Spot. "'Eya, Spot! How was da bread?" Spot didn't answer, but instead pulled her into a tight hug. "Hey," she whispered softly to him so only he could hear, "I'se fine…nothin's wrong…"

Spot had vowed then and there that as long as he had a say, he was going to keep Jackie out of the Refuge; for the last nine years, she had done a good job of that on her own, but this time, he wasn't so sure. All he could do was hope and pray to a God he was sure didn't really exist that Jackie somehow made it out…

* * *

"Aw, come on," Racetrack whined. "I'll get in da cell, jus' don' manhandle me, a'right, offica?" He was shoved into the cell with all the other newsies roughly, landing with a thud on the hard floor.

"Shut up, street rat," the cop muttered, voice laced with clear disdain.

Race scanned the cell, noticing that everyone was awake, minus Slicker, a newsie he'd met in Midtown; he was just a kid, no older than eight, and he had an egg growing out of his forehead. If he wasn't in the middle of a serious situation, Racetrack probably would have laughed.

"Hey, Spot," he whispered to the Brooklyn leader when he caught his eye. "You see if Jac—Cowboy made it out okay?" Spot squeezed his eyes shut and let out a heavy sigh, rubbing his face with his hands.

"Nah, an' I'm guessin' you didn' either?" Race shook his head in response.

Just then, two officers passed by the bars in front of them, dragging an unconscious Jackie down the hall to a different cell; above the door was a sign that read 'SOLITARY CONFINEMENT.' Racetrack and Spot rushed to grip the bars as they passed, eyes wide with shock and horror as they watched their beloved friend and fearless strike leader enter the hell that was the Refuge.

* * *

"All rise, all rise," a tired voice called out. "Court is now in session. Judge E. A. Monahan presiding." A man in a black robe walked up to take his seat as judge, staring down the group of newsies in front of him. He looked like a -*mean, grumpy old man, self-righteous and full of power.

"Are any of you boys represented by council?" he asked them. The boys looked at each other, confused; that alone was enough of an answer for the judge. "No? Good, that will move things along considerably."

Rage flashed up in Spot; no one dared brush the King of Brooklyn off to the side like dust without hearing from his fist.

"Hey, yer honor, I object!" he yelled.

"On what grounds?" Monohan asked, annoyed. Spot pretended to think for about ten seconds before pulling a disinterested expression and drawling out his answer.

"On the grounds of Brooklyn." The newsies behind him laughed; Spot usually wasn't one to crack jokes, but when he did, they were always pretty clever. The comment didn't amuse Monahan, though, and he banged his gavel down on the desk several times to silence the laughing boys.

"I fine each of you five dollars, or two weeks confinement in the House of Refuge," the judge sentenced harshly. The newsies' eyes widened and started to murmur their protest.

"Whoa," Racetrack spoke up, "We ain' got five bucks. We don' even got five cents!" He reached into his pocket, grabbing the dice that he carried with him everywhere and tossing them in the air and catching them repeatedly. "Yer Honor, how 'bout I roll ya for it? Double or nothin'!" The newsies laugh again, including Spot.

"Move it along, move it along," Monahan grumbled irritably.

"Your Honor, I'll pay the fines," a voice called from the back of the courtroom. The newsies turned to see Denton rushing up to them, David and Les right on his heels. "All of them."

David ran ahead of Denton up to Racetrack and Spot.

"Hey, you fellas alright?" he asked. When he searched through the other newsies that were there, though, he didn't see Jackie's face. "Wait…where's Jackie?"

Before any of them could answer, Denton walked up to them, a somber look on his face.

"Look, we've got to meet at the restaurant, everybody…we have to talk," he said seriously.

"Pay the clerk, move it along," Monahan ordered grumpily.

As Denton went to pay the fines, Jackie was led into the courtroom, handcuffs on her wrists. A bruise had blossomed on the right side of her face, right above her chin.

"Hey, fellas!" she greeted in a sarcastically cheery tone. Racetrack let out a relieved breath and grinned, happy to see her in somewhat good spirits; Spot relaxed his previously tensed muscles at the sight of her not dead and threw her his signature Conlon smirk.

"Heya, Cowboy!" Racetrack called back to her. "Nice shinah!" Jackie grimaced in response, although it just made Race laugh.

"'Ey, Denton," she called to the reporter when she saw he was there, a grin plastered across her face. "I guess we made all da papes dis time. So, how's me pictah look?"

"None of the papers covered the rally," Denton told her slowly, a pained look crossing his face. "Not even the Sun," he said regrettably.

Jackie's face slowly melted into one of disbelief before sliding into mortification as the guards shoved her to face Monahan.

"Case of Jackie Kelly," the bailiff announced, "inciting a riot. Assault. Resisting arrest."

"Judge Monahan," a horribly familiar voice rang out. "I'll speak for this young woman." Jackie whirled around to see Snyder, smiling his disgusting little smile at her before turning to face Monahan once more; the one thing that made her smirk, though, was that his nose was twice the size it should have been, and it was crooked and purple. David had done well.

"You two know each otha," she muttered darkly, glowering fiercely at Snyder. "Ain' dat nice."

"Just move it along, Warden Snyder," the judge ordered tiredly.

"This girl's real name is Mary Anne Sullivan," he announced to the judge and to everyone else in the room as well. Jackie's eyes widened in fear; he was actually going to do it—Snyder was going to ruin her.

"Her mother and younger brother are deceased due to pneumonia. Her father's a convict in the state penitentiary for killing three men in a bar brawl and for the abuse he dealt to his family. She's an escapee from the House of Refuge where her original sentence for three months was extended to six months for disruptive behavior."

"Oh, like demandin' we eat da food ya steal from us!" Jackie was beyond outraged. She could feel the burning stares from all of the newsies on the other side of Snyder.

"Followed by an additional six months for attempted escape," the warden continued, unperturbed by the teenage girl's vicious glares.

"_a__ttempted?_" Jackie roared. She moved to tackle Snyder, but the two policemen on either side of her restrained her. "Last time I checked, it wasn' an _attempted_ escape. Remembah, Snydah? Remembah me an' Teddy Roosevelt? Remembah Roosevelt an' tha carriage?"

"Therefore, I ask that she be returned to the House of Refuge," Snyder continued; his face was one of completely fake sincerity, but the judge still said nothing.

"What, fah me own good, right?" Jackie turned to rage at Monahan. "Move it along? Fah me own good an' fah what he kicks back ta ya!" She struggled against the two large cops, her anger barely contained.

"It is our fear that Jackie's behavior and attitude is a result of the disturbing abuse she faced from her father; during one of our routine check-ups at the House of Refuge, it was discovered that Miss Sullivan bears many disfiguring scars across her back, all of which she received from her father. We're hoping that through the House of Refuge, we'll be able to heal the…_emotional_…wounds caused by a traumatic childhood. I ask that the court order her incarceration until the age of twenty-one, in the hope that we may yet guide her to a useful and productive life."

Jackie knew that everyone was staring at her, either in confusion and curiosity or smug triumph. She was angry, so, so angry, but she was also hurt; she tried, and usually succeeded, in blocking out memories of her father and what he did to their family…and her. The scars on her back were proof enough of how much of a monster that man was. In the end, though, she was happy that it was always her, and not her mom or Francis.

Monahan took a moment to glance at Jackie; she was pale, and there were tears forming in her eyes. Her breathing was shaky and labored, and she looked as though she was in a trance, remembering days of long ago.

"So ordered," he announced, pounding his gavel once. Jackie flinched at the resounding noise, but other than that, said nothing.

"No!" she heard Les shout out. "You can't take her away! Don't take my friend!" The little guy went to run for Jackie, but David held him by the waist, rooted to his spot. His chin and bottom lip were trembling, and he didn't trust himself to say anything out loud.

As she was led away, Jackie shut down, closing off from the rest of the world and ignoring the confused stares of the newsies and Denton behind her.

* * *

David looked around the restaurant; all of the Manhattan newsies were quiet and somber. Their leader had just been sentenced to four years in the Refuge. Spot had gone back to Brooklyn right after the trial, saying he needed to get back to his boys; his voice had been tight, as if he was close to crying. David didn't blame him; seeing Jackie hauled away from the courthouse and shoved into another paddy wagon was…he didn't even have the words to describe it.

Spot had also said nothing about what Snyder had told the judge about Jackie; David was more than a little hurt that Jackie never told him the truth. Did she not know that he would've understood, and that he would've been there for her no matter what? He wanted her to trust him, but with the lies about her family being out west, and about her _name_, for God's sake…despite all of that, though, he knew he still loved her.

The bell on the door jingled as Denton walked in; David turned to him angrily.

"Why didn't the Sun print the story?" His voice came out harsher than he meant for it to, but seeing the guilty look on Denton's face made him even angrier, leaving no room for regret.

"Because it never happened," the reporter replied softly.

"Whattaya mean it nevah happened?" Racetrack demanded. He was beginning to think Denton had gone mad. "You were there!"

"Yeah, you wrote it!" Kid Blink added.

"If it's not in the papers, it never happened," Denton explained tiredly. "The owners decreed it not be in the papers, therefore…I came to tell you fellas goodbye."

The newsies all looked at him in shock; even David's anger broke into concern.

"What happened?" David asked. "Did you get fired or something?"

"No," Denton responded after a long second, "I got reassigned back to my old job as the Sun's ace war correspondent. They want me to leave right away. The owner thinks I should only cover the really important stories," he stated bitterly. David's concern melted away, and the anger was back.

"Wish me luck, fellas," Denton continued with a sad smile, "at least half of what I wish for you." The boys turned their faces from him, feeling hurt and betrayed. Denton walked over to David, hoping he'd be the one who understood him.

"They don't always fire you," he told the teenager. "I would be black balled from every paper in the country. I'm a newspaper man. I _have_ to have a paper to write for." When David still refused to look at him, Denton heaved a sigh. He pulled a sheet of paper from his pocket and held it out to David.

"This is the story I wrote about the rally. I want you to read it at least." David didn't take the paper, so Denton shoved it into his hand. He walked away sadly and turned to the owner of Tibby's. He held out money to pay for the boys' food, but the owner shook his head, saying he didn't want it.

"This should cover it…please just take it…" with that, the old man took the money hesitantly and Denton walked out of the restaurant, never looking back.

David looked at the closed door, a glare on his face. He made a fist with his hand, crumpling up Denton's article and throwing it on the table in front of him. All of the newsies are staring at him, as if waiting for an order. David took a deep breath before speaking to all of them.

"We get Jackie out of the Refuge tonight. From now on, we trust no one but the newsies." The boys nodded in agreement and began to leave. Les was slightly miffed that he didn't get to finish his hotdog, so he grabbed what he thought was a napkin and wrapped it around his half-finished food.

* * *

The sky was black and the night air cool as David, Les, Mush, Kid Blink, Racetrack and Boots snuck into the Refuge's gates. David looked up to the window on the top floor.

"That's the window where we saw Crutchie," he whispered, pointing up at it; he frowned slightly at the memory of Jackie's face when he pulled her up and Crutchie wasn't with her. She didn't say a single word when he walked her back to the Lodging House.

When the boys were just about to move to climb to the roof, Boot's spotted Snyder leading a handcuffed Jackie into a carriage. He tapped David on the shoulder and pointed in their direction.

"It's Jackie!" Les whispered excitedly. He was happy to see his new friend, and even happier at the prospect of her coming home.

"Where they takin' 'er, Dave?" Mush asked, confused.

"Only one way to find out," David shrugged. He turned to face the more experienced newsies. "I'll meet you guys at the Square. Racetrack, watch him," he ordered, pushing Les over to the Italian teenager. David then jogs to the carriage silently, jumping up and grabbing onto the back, riding away into the shadows of the street.

After what seemed like hours, the carriage came to a stop in front of a large house. David quickly leapt down from his perch, landing with little noise and retreated back to the shadows. The door to the carriage opened, and Snyder dragged Jackie out of it behind him. David nearly snarled out loud at the sight of him touching her.

On the steps of the house, a nicely dressed man with white hair stood, waiting for them.

"Seitz," Snyder greeted with a sick smile and a nod. Seitz said nothing in return, only allowing his top lip to curl up slightly in disgust for less than a second; despite its briefness, Jackie noticed and smirked.

As the three of them entered the house, David quietly crept up to the carriage; carefully, he pulled out the pins that attached the horses to the vehicle.

* * *

Jackie was pulled up the stairs roughly by Snyder, and she fought his grip the whole time. When he pushed her into an office, she stumbled forward. She glared at the ugly man before turning to see Joseph Pulitzer sitting in a large chair, a cigar in his hand.

"Sit," he commanded, gesturing to a chair in front of the desk. "Do you know what I was doing at your age? I was in a war, the Civil War."

Jackie plopped down into the chair unceremoniously, resting her still cuffed hands behind her head. She looked at Pulitzer with disinterest and boredom.

"Yeah, I hoid of it. So, didja win?"

"People think war is about right or wrong. They couldn't be more incorrect. War is about power." Pulitzer stood from his seat and walked to the window behind him. "It's always a battle for power over something, someone…and when you win, it's you who has that power. _That's _why people fight; people are power hungry."

"Yeah, I hoid a' dat, too," Jackie shrugged. Pulitzer turned to look her in the eye, and for a moment, he looked surprised. "I don' jus' sell ya papes, Joe. Sometimes I read 'em," she replied with an amused chuckle and a smirk.

"Power of the press is the greatest power of them all," Pulitzer continued, walking around his desk to sit on edge in front of Jackie. "I tell this city how to think. I tell this city how to vote. I shape New York's future."

"Yeah?" Jackie scoffed. "Well, right now, I'm only thinkin' 'bout _one_ futah, an' dat's me own," she told him, scowling at him.

"So am I, kid," Pulitzer said, surprising the teenager. "I do have the power to see you stay locked in the Refuge."

"An' I have tha powah ta break out again," she spit at him, leaning forward a bit.

"Or," Pulitzer drawled, leaning away from her and crossing his arms, making sure to keep his cigar away from his clothing. "I can see you released tomorrow, free and clear, with more money in your pockets than you can earn in three lifetimes."

Jackie stared at him blankly for a second before Pulitzer called Snyder over.

"Do take off the handcuffs. We're in an office. What damage could she do?"

As Snyder unlocked the cuffs from her wrists, Jackie stared at Pulitzer, confused. She rubbed her wrists, massaging the circulation back into motion.

"Are…are you _bribin'_ me, Joe?" Jackie asked him, cocking her head to the side.

"No," he replied shortly.

"Well den," Jackie shrugged. She stood from her seat and dusted off the front of her shirt. "It's been real nice chattin' with ya, Joe, but I gotta be goin' now." As Jackie turned to leave, Pulitzer grabbed her shoulder and forced her back into the seat angrily.

"You listen to me, girl," he seethed. "You just shut your mouth and listen to me! This is no game I'm playing at." He stopped for a moment, and the two of them glared at each other. Jackie would be damned if she showed any fear to the likes of him. Pulitzer pulled back, adjusting his collar as he spoke once more, this time calmly.

"You work for me until the strike is over, and it _will_ be over, make no mistake, with or without you. Then, you can go wherever you want to buy a ticket for. Away from the Refuge, these foul streets…free…with money to spend and nobody chasing you."

There was a pregnant pause as Jackie looked away from the old man, twisting her mouth to the side in thought. It seemed to Pulitzer like she was contemplating on taking his offer. Then, she turned her face to smile at him widely.

"Huh," she chuckled, "we must have ya scared pretty bad, old man," she grinned at him. Pulitzer sighed and walked over back to his seat; he stayed standing, though, as he continued.

"Miss Kelly, I don't think you fully understand the gravity of my…_offer_. Let me help you get it through your thick skull." Jackie smile faltered at this, causing Pulitzer to grin in response. "If you don't come work for more…you won't have any newsies to stand up for."

Jackie's whole aura melted into seething anger. She stayed in her seat, not moving, minus the twitching of her fists and the flaring of her nostrils. Her glare was dark and menacing; Seitz knew for a fact that it scared him.

"And what about that other boy…David…David Jacobs, am I correct?" Pulitzer glanced down to Jackie's tightening fist, knowing he struck a nerve. "What do you think would happen to him if you were to defy me? I'm give you an opportunity, a wonderful and brilliant opportunity here, Kelly…I won't be so kind to your friend. In fact, I know of a lovely cell in the Refuge that would do nicely for him…plenty of kind company."

"You. Woudn'. Dare." Jackie was livid. Her voice didn't shake once, but there was definitely an undertone of 'I'll kill you' in her words. Pulitzer, though, just chuckled.

"I think you underestimate my work ethic, Kelly," he said, amused. "I won't stop until you have _nothing_ to fight for. I will break you." He leaned forward across his desk at her, narrowing his eyes at her snarl.

"_Time's running out, kid,"_ he sang, _"so what do you say? Cowboy or convict I win either way. Your abject surrender was always the bottom line."_ He sneered at her before snapping his fingers.

"Gentlemen, escort our _guest_ back to the Refuge so she might reflect in solitude, hmm?" He never even took his eyes off Jackie as he gave the order to Snyder and Seitz. The two men shuffled over and grabbed either arm. Jackie noted that Seitz' hold was not as tight or unfriendly as Snyder's. As they led her away, Pulitzer followed a few steps behind, singing.

"_Too bad you've no job, Jackie, but you did resign. Too bad you've no family, well, you can't have mine. Be glad you're alive kid, I'd say that's the bottom line."_

"_You put on a show, kid, you knew what to play,"_ Snyder sang from her left, grinning sadistically.

"'_Till those kids all believed you were right," _Pulitzer continued, pushing out his lower lip at Jackie in mock sadness.

"_Lucky for them, all but one got away,"_ Snyder sang, his grip on Jackie's arm tightening slightly.

"They may not be so lucky tonight," Pulitzer sang darkly as Jackie and the two men reached the door. She whirled around, breaking out of the men's grip, rage pouring almost visibly out of her every pore. She lunged at Pulitzer, but Snyder and Seitz caught her just before she grabbed the old man's throat.

"You jus' _touch_ one a' me boys, Joe and I'll kill ya, I swear it! _I'll slit ya fuckin' throat! _Ya hear me, Pulitzah? _I'LL MURDAH YA!_" she roared at him. Snyder and Seitz dragged her out of the door and down the hallway to the stairs, and even though she tried to make herself be heard by howling even louder, her voice still faded from Pulitzer's ears as she was hauled out.

* * *

David was getting restless. He'd been hiding in the darkest part of the street for at least five minutes; he hoped Jackie was alright. Just when he was about to give up on trying to be stealthy and break down the door to grab her and run, the door burst open, and he saw Jackie being dragged out, no longer in cuffs.

"Get off me!" she growled at the two men, struggling to have some sort of freedom from their hold. Snyder snarled and twisted her left arm back in a position an arm shouldn't be put in and kept a constant pressure on it. Jackie let out a grunt, but clamped her mouth down before she could cry out. She didn't want Snyder to know that he was hurting her; it would've resulted in another sadistic grin that would make her want to hurl. David felt something wild, primal and feral flare up in his chest; he'd never wanted to hurt anyone more than he did Snyder ever in his life.

"Snyder," Seitz warned, "let go of her." Snyder scoffed at the other man, but did as he was told. As soon as Jackie was free from the grip, she leaned against the railing on the stairs and cradled her left arm close to her chest.

David jumped out of the shadows, knowing this was the time to move.

"Jackie!" he shouted. Her head snapped up to see him, and so did Snyder and Seitz'. "Come on! Run!" Jackie took the opportunity to jump over the railing, landing on her feet nimbly; she ran to David and they took off down the street.

"After her!" Snyder bellowed. The driver of the carriage whipped the horses, who took off…without the carriage… It was then that Snyder noticed the pins were missing from the front of the vehicle.

"Don't worry," Seitz huffed behind him. "She's already got no place to go."

David and Jackie ran through the empty streets, their panting and clacking shoes the only sounds heard in the night. The two of them ducked into an alley before Jackie slowed to a stop. When David realized Jackie wasn't following him.

"Come on," he urged her, "keep running!" Jackie shook her head at him, her eyes filled with fear. David couldn't understand just what she was afraid of, though; she had just escaped! He thought she would've been ecstatic and proud of him for being so brave and smart.

"Ya shoudn've done this, Dave," she told him gravely. "Dey could put you in jail."

"I don't care!" David _also_ thought that him doing anything for her would've been clear by now. Jackie's face hardened into a scow.

"Come 'ere," she said gruffly, grabbing him by the front of his shirt and pushing him up against the bricks of the alley wall. She glared up at him.

"What about ya fam'ly? What would happen ta them if _you_ go to jail, huh?" David didn't know how to answer; he tried to form a response, but all that came out were incoherent noises. "Ya don' know nothin' about jail, Davey!" She roughly dropped her hold on him and took a large step back.

"Look, thanks fah what ya done, but ya neet ta get outta here," she ordered, pointing down the alley. David didn't move.

"I don't understand," he said hesitantly, feeling hurt and confused.

"I don' undastand either, but jus' get outta here!" she shouted at him, exasperated. David looked straight at her, pursing his lips and setting his jaw.

"No!" he shouted back in defiance.

"Go!"

"No, Jackie!" In one stride, he was in front of her, grabbing her arms and pulling her into him. He held her there firmly, never wanting to let go. He buried his face into her hair; in the back of his mind, he remembered that her hat was still at his house, right where he left it after finding it in the ruins of the rally.

"I won't let you go back there," he whispered fervently in her ear. "I won't let them take you." Jackie pulled out of the hug sharply, leaving David's arms empty once more.

"Davey, ya don' know what it's like!" Tears started to form in her eyes, and David could literally feel his heart shattering into a thousand pieces; he never, ever wanted to see her cry. He'd decided that after Crutchie was captured.

"Ya don' know how it feels everyday ta know ya fam'ly's gone, an' dere ain' nothin' ya can do about it," she continued. She sucked in a ragged breath. "Me whole fam'ly's gone. Gone, Dave! Me ma an' me brother are dead. I'll nevah see 'em again. So please…please don' do dis ta yasself, Davey," she begged him. "Don' do dis ta ya fam'ly. Don' do dis fah me, I ain' woith it."

"Jackie," David whispered brokenly. He took a step toward her, but she took a quick step back.

"Don', Davey…jus'…jus' leave. Leave, David." It was the first time she'd ever used his actual name. David decided that he hated hearing his name said like that. "Jus' forget about me." Her voice cracked near the end, and David clenched his jaw in frustration.

He walked up to Jackie until they were mere inches away. Her eyes were shiny, brimming with tears she refused to let fall. He lifted his hand to cup her face, and was surprised, but pleased, when she closed her eyes and nuzzled into his touch.

"Jackie, I'll never, _ever_, forget about you," he whispered to her. Jackie felt his warm breath on her face as he spoke, and instead of opening her eyes, she kept them squeezed shut. It was killing her to let him go when all she wanted to do was have him hold her until the day she died.

David's eyes travelled over her face, memorizing every curve, every plane, and every little freckle dotted here and there. Once he knew her face would be engrained into his memory, he leaned down closer to her, closing his eyes. Barely, just barely, he brushed her lips with his own. He felt and heard the catch in Jackie's breath as he stayed there, unmoving for a long moment.

Hesitantly, he pulled away, and walked down the alley back to the Square, where he knew newsies were waiting for him…David hoped to God he could think of something to say to them on his way there.

Jackie didn't breathe again until the sound of David's footsteps had faded away completely; once she knew he was gone, she let out an incredibly shaky breath and opened her eyes. She felt a single tear travel down her cheek, and wiped it away furiously with the back of her sleeve.

"_Folks we finally got a headline," _she sang, _"'Newsies Crushed as Bulls Attack.' Crutchie's callin' me, dumb crip's jus' too damn slow."_ She flexed her fists, remembering how she failed to rescue Crutchie, and how she'd failed to protect her boys at the rally.

"_Me boys were fightin', bleedin', fallin', thanks ta good ol' Cap'n Jack! Cap'n Jack jus' wants ta close her eyes an' go!"_ Jackie's fists pounded against the bricks she'd thrown David onto just moments earlier. She turned so her back was leaning on the wall, and she slid down until she was sitting. A single moonbeam spread across her face as she looked down the alley.

"_Let me go far away, somewhere dey won' nevah find me, an' tomorrow won' remind me of today. When tha city's finally sleepin', an' tha moon looks old an' grey, I get on a train dat's bound for Santa Fe."_ Jackie jumped to her feet, briskly striding away from the alley.

"_An' I'm gone, an' I'm done! No more runnin', no more lyin'. No more fat ol' men denyin' me my pay. Jus' a moon so big an' yellah, it turns night right inta day. Dreams come true, yeah dey do, in Santa Fe."_

She ran through another alley way, one that went straight through to another street. She looked to wall and found a poster of a cowboy on a horse. Jackie touched it fondly, wishing so badly that she was anywhere but in New York.

"_Where does it say ya gotta live an' die here? Where does it say dat I can' catch a break? Why should you only take what ya given? Why should ya spend ya whole life livin' trapped where dere ain' no futah, even at seventeen? Breakin' ya back fah someone else's sake. If tha life don' seem ta suit ya, how 'bout a change a' scene? Far from tha lousy headlines an' tha deadlines in between!"_

Jackie ran out into the middle of an abandoned street, where nothing was moving, and the moon was shining on it like a big spotlight, just for her.

"_Santa Fe, my old friend! I can' spend my whole life dreamin', though I know dat's all I seems inclined ta do. I ain' gettin' any youngah, an' I wanna start brand new! I need space, an' fresh air! Let 'em laugh in my face I don' care, save my place…I'll be dere…"_

As she finished singing, a carriage pulled up. The door opened, revealing Snyder.

* * *

Jackie sat on her bed at the Refuge, in her cell of 'solitary confinement.' She didn't mind, though; she didn't really want to be around people at the moment, and she was still mulling over what Pulitzer had said earlier. Being along gave her a chance to think and decide.

She hears the sound of the small slot in the door opening.

"Psst! Jackie!" She recognized Crutchie's voice immediately. She spared him a glance, but then went back to looking at her crinkled sheets.

"I snitched ya a potato off Snydah's plate while I was soivin' him. It was da biggest one!" he told her, tossing the potato toward her. She was surprised when it landed with a dull thud just over three inches away from her on her bed; then again, the newsies always did have the best aim.

"Oh, Mistah Snydah was eatin' good tonight!" Crutchie babbled. "Ya know tha stuff tha we don' evah get? He got potatoes, olives, livah, bacon, sauerkraut…" from the way his voice sounded, Jackie would've guessed he was probably drooling.

"An' guess what I done to his sauerkraut, huh?" he grinned mischievously.

"So, what'd it get ya?" Jackie asked him in a tired voice.

"Oh, anudda three months, probably," he replied, and she could practically _hear_ him shrug. "But, ya can' let 'em get ya, right, Jackie? That's what you always said!"

Jackie turned to look out of her barred window; the full moon's light cast over her face as she stared at it.

"We was beat when we was born." Jackie sounded defeated; hell, she felt defeated. She didn't even know if there was any fight left in her.

Crutchie's grin slowly faded into a disappointed frown as he closed the slot. After a moment, though, he opened it again, and found Jackie on her knees, elbows on her windowsill and her hands clasped together in prayer.

"_Just be real is all I'm askin', an' not some paintin' in my head,"_ she sang, her voice cracking. _"'Cause I'm dead if I can' count on you today. I got nothin' if I ain' got Santa Fe!"_

* * *

**A/N: Jesus Christ. That took forever. And it made me depressed.**

**Regardless, it **_**is**_** the longest chapter yet, so I hope I did it justice. Review and let me know!**

**Te veré otra vez, mis bellezas.**


	13. If You Could Just Understand Why

**A/N: Oh my god. I can't believe that this story is so close to being finished. It's kind of making my heart…just…alkdjfalsdkjfalsd.**

**Disclaimer: sldjfalskfdjaslkidon'**

**You guys don't read that part anyway.**

* * *

It was early morning when the newsboys of Manhattan gathered in front of the World Distribution Center. David made his way through the mass of boys to the front, barely missing the swinging wooden signs being held just above his head. He held Les's hand, towing him along absentmindedly; he could barely hear himself think as shouts rang out around him.

"Stop the World! No more papes! Stop the World! No more papes!" the newsboys shouted. By the time David reached the front of the crowd, policemen had made a barricade in front of the Distribution Center, and a carriage pulled up to the side of them. Suddenly, he felt himself being pulled in by the arm into a fight amongst three or four newsies.

"Race!" he yelped when he caught the Italian's eye. "Race, help me! I need some help!"

"A'right!" Race called back, rolling his eyes. "I ain' deaf!" Before he could do anything, though, Spot Conlon pulled the newsboys apart by their collars.

"Hey, hey, hey! Break it up." The glare on his face was enough to send the guilty newsies off to the back of the masses.

"Thanks, Spot," David sighed.

"Yeah, no problem, Mouf," the King of Brooklyn muttered in response. Race had told him about what happened the night before with Jackie, so he thought it was only right to be there to help David with the Manhattan crew for the time being. Jackie was his best friend, after all.

Spot eyed the carriage with a sneer; he knew that it contained the scabbers. God, did he hate scabbers; they were an insult to the newsie name, and a pain in his ass. He watched as one by one, they filed out of the horse-drawn vehicle. The last figure to step out was a girl, much to Spot's surprise. There was no mistaking it, though; she wore a brand new grey outfit, complete with long skirt, button up, jacket, tie and new cap. She kept her head down, but her brown curls were so familiar…

"Hey…" Spot whispered, eyes widening. "Race," he called, just loud enough to catch his attention. "Race, c'mere."

"What?" the Italian Brooklynite asked, annoyed. He was none too happy when David had come back empty handed the night before. How were they supposed to finish this strike once and for all if Jackie wasn't there to help lead them? Fate was cruel.

"Jus'…jus' tell me I'm seein' things," Spot begged. "Jus' tell me I'm seein' things…" The urgent desperation in his voice worried Racetrack, and when his gaze finally landed on what Spot was talking about, his eyes widened in disbelief. He didn't want it to be true…maybe it wasn't! But then the girl lifted her head, and God help him, Racetrack would never be able to mistake those eyes for anyone else.

"No, you ain' seein' things," Race said tightly, "dat's Jackie. What's she doin'?"

"She's dressed like a scabbah!" Spot cried out. He couldn't decide whether or not to be sad or furious. At his words, the newsies quieted immediately, eyes fixed on their beloved leader in bewilderment.

Mush staggered forward, only to be stopped and shoved back by the barricade of cops; still, though, he pushed right back, desperate to get Jackie's attention.

"Jackie? Jackie, look at me, will ya? Come on, it's me, Mush! Look at me!" he pleaded, but her only response was to close her eyes and turn her face away from him. "Whattaya doin', Jackie?" As he finished, Kid Blink pushed up next to him for his turn to plead with the teenage girl.

"This ain' happenin'! _This can' be happenin'!_" Jackie's hands curled into fists as she listened to Blink's voice strain with emotion. "What are you _doin'_, Jackie? Come on, what are you doin'?"

Boots shoved his way up next to him, but unlike his fellow newsies, he was more angry than shocked.

"Come on, what is this? Where'd ya get them clothes?"

"Mistah Pulitzah picked 'em out hisself," Weasel sneered as he sauntered up behind Jackie smugly. "A special gift, to a _special_ new employee," he finished, grabbing Jackie's chin in his meaty hand. She forcefully yanked her chin away from him, ashamed.

"_You sold us out?_" Spot roared; he face was a bright, angry red, and there was murder in his eyes.

"I'll give ya a new suit, ya bum!" Race yelled after him, clearly disgusted. "_I'll soak ya!_"

Jackie flinched at their words, squeezing her eyes shut tight to keep the tears back. Spot held his arm out in front of Race as if to hold him back.

"No," he started, voice dark and venomous, "allow me ta get me hands doity." Spot rushed at the barricade to get to Jackie, and was barely held back. "C'mere, ya doity rotten scabbah! Traitah! _I thought you was me friend!_ Not aftah taday, ya not! _I'll murdah ya!_" Spot was dragged back by other newsies, and Jackie's heart sank as she realized just how alike she and Spot were; even their insults matched. What can you expect from best friends, though…or…Jackie didn't even want to begin to think about how much she'd hurt her boys. It made her sick to her stomach.

As Spot was hauled away, Jackie let herself open her eyes; when she did, her gaze immediately locked with a set of blue eyes…eyes that belonged to a person she cared about more than anyone. David held her stare evenly, being careful to show no emotion on his face; even with his caution, though, Jackie was able to read him like a fantastically written headline: David felt betrayed…betrayed and confused.

"Aww," Weasel commented, looking back and forth between David and Jackie before settling his sight on David. "Ya wanna talk to 'er? C'mon, c'mon, go right ahead!" The old man ushered him through the barricade, and the two teenagers stepped away for privacy. For a long moment, neither of them said anything, and the silence was eating away at Jackie.

"So," David started slowly. "_This_ is why you didn't escape last night." His tone was accusatory as he flicked the collar on her new grey jacket. Jackie gave a pained expression, wanting so badly to tell him that she was only doing it for him…for him and her boys.

"If ya could just _undastand-_" Jackie gritted out.

"No! You're a liar, Jackie!" David nearly shouted. "You lied about everything. You lied about your family being out west, because _they're not!_ You didn't even tell me your real name!" David knew for a fact that even though he felt so betrayed, and was so angry with this girl, he still loved her; that's what was killing him the most.

"So?" Jackie spat at him, looking him dead in the eye. "Whattaya wanna do about it, David?" Her voice cracked on his name, and David flinched. He really, _really_ hated it when Jackie said his name like that.

"I…I don't understand you," he whispered brokenly. Jackie mustered whatever acting skills she could to glare at him; judging by the look on his face, it was pretty believable.

"Oh, so let me spell it out for ya. I ain' got nobody tuckin' me in at night, like _you_," she spat. "It's jus' me, I gotta look out fah meself." Jackie swallowed thickly when she finished, watching the anger flash in David's eyes.

"You had me. You had Les. You had Spot, Race, Mush, Blink…you had_ the newsies_." It didn't escape Jackie's notice that he switched to past tense…and it made her want to puke. She pushed all discomfort aside, though; everything she was doing was the help him, and she couldn't give up on his safety after getting in this deep.

"Oh, what'd bein' a newsie evah give me but a dime a day an' a few black eyes?" she retorted. "I can' afford ta be a kid no more, David. Fah tha foist time in me life, I got money in me pockets—_real money_. Money, ya undastand? An' I got more on tha way an' as soon as I collect, I'm gone, I'm away…a'right?"

"Well…well, that's good!" David shouted at her, ignoring her shamed flinch. "That's good because we don't need you!" Jackie's heart broke…that was it. There was no going back…ever. Jackie didn't know if her emotionless mask fell, and if she were to be honest, she didn't care at all, and apparently, neither did David; he just plowed on. "All those words you said, those were mine."

Jackie straightened her back and looked David in the eyes again, giving a half-hearted glare.

"Yeah, but ya nevah had tha guts ta put 'em across yasself, didja?" Her voice was tight and raw from keeping her tears back. With each passing second, it was getting more difficult to keep her composure.

"I do now," David responded after a moment of silence. His eyes held a determination Jackie had not seen before, and her heart sank to the middle of her stomach. This was _not_ supposed to happen. If he kept leading the strike, Pulitzer was going to make sure he got hurt, and Jackie didn't think she'd be able to let herself live if anything were to happen to him or her boys.

David turned sharply to walk back to the newsies, and the last and final bit of Jackie's heart shattered, leaving nothing behind.

"Davey," she whispered, only loud enough for her ears…or at least, she thought so. David whipped around so fast, his head was spinning.

"'Sa matta?" Jackie goaded him, glaring once more. How she was keeping this up, she didn't know. "Gotta problem?"

David made to lunge at her, but was caught by Weasel and another policeman.

"Maybe you'd like a new suit of your own, huh?" Weasel asked David with a twisted smile. David glared hard at the old man for a moment before spitting in his face.

"_Never!_" he shouted in defiance. "_Never!_" On Weasel's command, the police office dragged David away, still screaming at Jackie. "I'm not like you! I'll never be like you!"

Jackie audibly swallowed when she was suddenly surrounded by circle of cops as they led her away. As she passed the mass of newsies, every insult, every shout, every yell, _every voice_ pierced her ears, and burned their way into her memory.

"Traitor!" she heard Spot yell from his place beside Boots. "I thought you'se was me best friend!" The last part sounded so much like a sob, it made Jackie let out one of her own. None of the newsies noticed, though. They were to wrapped up in their anger and humiliation.

"You make me _sick_!" Kid Blink spat at her as she passed him.

"I trusted you!" Boots hollered in fury.

"Seize tha day, huh, _Jack_?" Race sneered before turning away in disgust.

No matter how hard she'd try Jackie would never be able to forget that day; the day she made a deal with the devil in order to keep the ones she loved safe, and the ones she loved giving up on her. They didn't even _think_ about _why_ she suddenly gave up; but it didn't matter anymore.

* * *

**A/N: Okay, so that was a really SHORT update, but I've been super busy lately. The next couple of chapters (or so) are going to be short, but there'll be musical numbers in both of them, so hopefully, that'll make up for this chapter's length!**

**Thank you guys so much for following and reading and reviewing. It seriously means so much to me.**

**Mmk, I'm off to watch Michael Phelps, Ryan Lochte, and Tom Daley at the Olympics because they are fiiiine. Yeah, that's the only reason I watch the Olympics. So sue me.**

**Tot volgende keer, my skoonheid.**


	14. Alone, But Always Running Towards You

**A/N: Oh. My. God.**

**I am a horrible human being. And writer. I'm so, so, so, so, so, so, so sorry. I've been so busy lately, that everything that had to do with writing has been on the back burner. I hope you guys enjoy this little bit, though!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies. But you can be damn sure that I'll write about it.**

* * *

Esther Jacobs bustled about the house in the early afternoon; soon, she would go out to her second job at a small shop a few blocks down. She rushed around, tidying up her family's small apartment as she did every day.

She sat down at the table with a small pile of lace, sighing as she sifted through it. Her nose scrunched up when her hand brushed something that definitely wasn't lace. She picked up the unfamiliar object, which was wrapped in paper. She unfolded it to find a day old hotdog. She turned to look at Les playfully.

"Les," she started, grabbing his attention. "What is this?" She held the hotdog up, laughing, but Les just shrugged and grabbed it from her.

"I was savin' it," he told her innocently.

Esther chuckled as he grabbed the food and shuffled away, and looked down at the paper it was wrapped in. Her eyes widened when she realized just what it was; David hadn't stopped talking about it after he'd come home from that rally: Denton's article. David had said it was going to change the whole strike, and that it would help them win for sure, and it would help them get Jackie back. He was so devastated after that night; he kept blaming himself that Jackie wasn't able to escape.

Esther looked over at David; he was sitting at the foot of his bed, hands balled into fists on his knees. He was glaring furiously at an old brown cap resting on the dresser a few feet away. She vaguely recognized it as Jackie's.

"David," she called softly. He didn't look away from the cap, nor did his expression change. "David, it's Denton's article." She held it out to him, but still refused to move. Esther sighed once more before reading it aloud.

"The Dark Truth: Why Our City Really Fears the Newsies Strike, by Bryan Denton. Last night I saw naked force exercised against mere boys, the newsies, who were—"

Esther's voice was interrupted by a sudden slam. She looked up to see that David had climbed out the window and onto the fire escape. He plopped down angrily and put his face in his hands. Esther sighed sadly; she hated seeing her son so upset. Her gaze rested on Jackie's cap for a moment.

Esther knew how he felt about the girl—a blind man could've seen it. If she were to be honest, she and Mayer were hoping that David might just settle down with her. They complimented each other, and it made both her and her husband proud to watch their feelings grow. Esther closed her eyes and silently prayed that God would help the newsies win the strike, for her boys to be safe, and for Jackie to be safe, too; she didn't know what her son would do without her now that he'd finally found someone like Jackie.

* * *

Jackie followed Weasel down the stairs and into the basement of the Distribution Center. She was emotionally exhausted after everything that had gone down that day, and on top of that, she only sold fifty papers. All she wanted to do was sleep for a hundred years.

She eyed the room, taking in the bed, shelves, and old printing press in the corner. Everything was covered in dust, but that didn't really bother her. What bothered her was that she couldn't hear the newsies laughing and shouting at each other while they played cards; she couldn't smell the tobacco and smoke in the air as her boys lit up and relaxed in the safety and warmth of the lodging house; she couldn't help but feel so alone.

"One trick, Cowboy," Weasel sneered, tearing Jackie from her thoughts. "One trick, an' it's back to the Refuge." She nodded at him, still feeling empty and alone.

"Uh-huh." Weasel picked up a dusty sheet, and looked back at the teenage girl, off in her own world again. "Ya gonna be requirin' anythin' this evenin'? No? Well, then, I oughtta be sayin' goodnight." He tossed her the sheet, and he was only half surprised when she caught it. He turned and started up the stairs before twisting around to call out a warning. "Remember: one trick an' I go straight to Mistah Pulitzah."

Jackie listened as his footsteps fade away at the top of the stairs, and flinched at the sound of the slamming door. She dropped the sheet in her hand to the floor and removed her cap, placing it on the bedside table. She felt numb as she shrugged out of her jacket and long skirt, and didn't even bother to fully undress before climbing under the covers and nestling in the old bed.

Jackie closed her eyes, willing herself to sleep, but the memories of that morning kept assaulting her thoughts. Her mind kept picturing Race's disgust, Spot's rage, Mush's confusion, Blink's desperation, and David's heartbreak. Jackie rolled onto her side and curled up into a tight ball and let the tears flood her eyes. She was alone now, for the first time in her life, truly alone.

And no one cared.

* * *

Jackie yawned and rubbed her eyes as she made her way to the front of the Distribution Center. She hardly slept the night before, and she didn't like not waking up to Kloppman's yelling and fussing. As she walked up to the counter to pay for her papers, she stepped on the hem of her skirt and nearly stumbled.

"Whoamngggashit," she slurred sleepily; she had forgotten how hard it was to walk in skirts. Jackie decided she didn't like it, and that if she—_once_ she—made it to Santa Fe, she'd wear pants all the time.

"Hundred papes," Jackie muttered as she dropped a coin on the counter. Weasel smirked from behind the bars.

"Sleep well?" he asked in fake sincerity. Jackie rolled her eyes as he turned to count the papers. Oscar and Morris slinked their way up next to Jackie, leaning against the bars and smirking at her.

"Hey," Oscar started. "Come with us, Cowboy," he cooed, stroking his thumb across Jackie's jaw. She smacked his hand away and threw him a glare, and he chuckled in response. "We're gonna go fix ya boyfriend, Davey…fix 'im so he can't walk." Jackie's glare deepened and her fist curled on the counter.

"Shut up!" Morris hissed, smacking the back of Oscar's head. Oscar just snickered once more before following his taller brother down the steps and away from the Distribution Center. Just before he rounded the corner, he turned back to face Jackie, waved at her, and blew her a kiss.

Furious, Jackie made to go after them, but not before Weasel grabbed her arm through the bars.

"Ah-ah-ah!" he sang. "Lift one fingah, an' it's right back to the Refuge." Jackie fleetingly wondered if Weasel ever stopped sneering. "Next!" The old geezer yelled out, dropping Jackie from his grasp.

Jackie closed her eyes and sighed as she picked up her papers and left.

* * *

Les strutted down the street, making small sound effects as he swung his wooden sword every which way. He wasn't paying particularly close attention when he bumped into a woman around his mother's age, carrying a basket of lace.

"Oops! Sorry, miss," he squeaked out at her. She smiled warmly at him in return, and he gave a small smile back. "Mornin'!"

"Good mornin', dear," she greeted, patting him on the head affectionately as she walked off. Just as Les started humming to himself as he turned around, he collided into a wall.

"Oof!" he grunted. He looked up slowly to meet the nasty face of Oscar Delancey.

"Oh, 'scuse me, kid," he laughed. Warily, Les walked around him, and noticed that Oscar's footsteps followed his own. Out of nowhere, Morris Delancey stepped out from an ally to stand in front of him, and suddenly, Les didn't feel very safe; in fact, she really wished Jackie were there with him.

"Where's ya brothah, street rat?" Morris cooed disgustingly. "Where's Davey at?"

Les, trying his best to stay calm, attempted to walk around the Delancey, only to be pushed back.

"Hey, leave me alone!" Les shouted, shoving Morris forward with surprising strength. Morris's face contorted in fury, and he shoved Les into a muddy puddle next to the sidewalk. Oscar laughed along with his brother, lifting Les from the ground as the young boy writhed and yelled.

"Stop it! Put me down! Put me down!" Les cried. Oscar let out a snarling "If that's what ya want, kid!" and threw him into a pile of broken crates. Les yelped as the planks of wood dug into his sides and his leg.

"Les!" His head snapped up at the sound of his name, and he saw David running toward him at full speed.

"No, no!" Les wheezed out. "I'm alright! Run!" Oscar stepped out in front of him, and David skidded to a halt.

"Yeah, run, Davey," the Delancey mocked. "We'll fix the kid so he matches Crutchie." With a furious roar, David tackled Oscar to the ground.

"David!" Les called out, and Morris pushed him back into the pile of wood. Les watched helplessly as Oscar and Morris took turns in punching his older brother; the poor kid was screaming himself hoarse for the beating to stop, but it only escalated. Morris pulled back to put on a pair of brass knuckles.

Just down the street, Jackie is selling her seventy third newspaper; for just over an hour, she was having a great selling day, not that it eased any bit of her guilt and shame. She was about to approach a wealthy looking couple when a familiar yell reached her ears.

"Stop! Stop hurting him! Leave my brother alone!"

Jackie's heart froze in realization when Oscar's words echoed in her mind. _"We're gonna go fix ya boyfriend, Davey…fix 'im so he can't walk."_ Without a moment's hesitation, Jackie threw her unsold papers to the ground and sprinted to the sound of Les's voice, hiking her skirt up when it threatened to slow her down.

There was no way she was going to let David down again.

* * *

**A/N: So, this update was actually **_**supposed**_** to be the beginning of the actual 14****th**** chapter, but since I've been getting reviews and messages from people telling me to update, I thought I'd give you guys this for the time being.**

**It's just the end of the whole chapter that's screwing me up. I just can't really think. Hopefully I won't be in this slump for too long, though, and I want to have the rest of the chapter up within the next couple of weeks.**


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